


time will lie down and be still

by islndgurl777



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Noah is evil and all the warnings that go with that, Practical Magic AU, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islndgurl777/pseuds/islndgurl777
Summary: Staring up at the dark ceiling in his room, Michael thinks again about his parents’ love, and about those last days with his mother. “I hope I never fall in love,” he whispers.AKA the Malex Practical Magic AU I've been promising for months, featuring: Michael and Isobel as siblings with alien powers, Maria and Liz as their midnight/anytime drinking buddies, and Alex as an FBI agent on the trail of an alien serial killer....I swear it's a lot less like canon than that description would lead you to believe.





	1. home can be a person

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the reason why I shouldn't work on multiple projects at once. I started it way back in July, but BoS took over my life, and I was only working on it a little bit at a time. "Oh, you'll have plenty of time to get it done by Halloween!" I told myself.
> 
> *insert Moira Rose laughing-without-moving-her-mouth clip here* Yeah, right!
> 
> I didn't think I was going to get it done, and by the time this is posted, it will no longer be Halloween for some people, but whatever.
> 
> Fic title from a Practical Magic quote. Chapter titles are RNM quotes, and you may recognize a few choice pieces of dialogue throughout the fic as from RNM as well.
> 
> Big thanks to my roommate Kaitlyn, without whom this fic would be 1) way later, like possibly not done for a few more weeks, and 2) much less coherent.

**1997**

Michael does not remember the day his father died, but he can recall with vivid clarity the night, three days later, when their mother drove him and Isobel to Mimi DeLuca’s apartment above the Wild Pony.

The funeral had been that morning. He remembers the stifling heat of his black jacket under the spring Arizona sun, and the way Isobel’s hand gripped his tight enough to hurt. He remembers his mother’s uninhibited sobs behind them, and the way her hand gripped his shoulder tight the entire service. He remembers the ride home, his mother’s constant glances in the rearview mirror, and the mere twenty minutes she’d given the both of them to pack up their things and get back in the car.

He remembers highway signs--Tucson, Welcome to New Mexico!, Las Cruces. He remembers backtracking and his mother muttering about tails, then hearing her bitter laugh and, “Try to find us now...” More highway signs--Welcome to Texas!, El Paso, and another Welcome to New Mexico! He remembers Isobel--silent the last three days--squeezing his hand in hers as she falls asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the roof of their car.

He’s still awake as it approaches midnight, thunder still rumbling and rain still tapping on the windows as they pull up behind a bar, the bright lights of a jumping horse flickering through the gloom. A familiar beacon; his mom hold him once it would let him know he’s safe.

“Stay here, baby,” Michael’s mother says, eyes red-rimmed, tear tracks still visible under her eyes. She waits for Michael to nod before she gets out of the car and locks him in with Isobel, then makes her way to the back door before knocking.

Michael starts running his fingers through Isobel’s hair, and she whimpers in her sleep, nuzzling her face into his stomach. He can feel her reaching out to him in her sleep, the thick rope of their bond allowing him to slip into her mind, or her to slip into his. 

It’s dark, wherever they are, a wild and frightening landscape of craggy rocks and dead trees. Even here, thunder rumbles and wind blows hard enough to tangle his already unmanageable hair. Isobel stands before him, quiet and solemn as she’s never been. “Is Mommy going to be okay?” she asks him, and hearing her voice for the first time in three days gives him a profound sense of relief, even as her mournful tone compounds his own bottled-up grief; a loud crash of thunder causes him to jump closer to her.

He shakes his head, heart racing as he keeps an eye on the storm raging around them. “I don’t think so.”

Isobel nods, eyes drifting around the darkness that surrounds them. “Are we going to be okay?” she asks. There’s an airy quality to her voice in here that makes it sound like she’s slipping away from him.

Heart pounding, he reaches out to her with both hands and pulls her in, resting his forehead on hers. She is his older sister by a year, but their father always stressed the importance of a brother taking care of his sister. Even if he hadn’t, Michael would always want to protect her from anything that would do her harm. He swallows and nods, his forehead brushing hers. “As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay. And I promise, you will  _ always _ have me, Is. Do you promise I’ll always have you?”

She nods, knocking her forehead into his and squeezing his hands, readjusting them so they can link their pinkies. “I promise, you will always have me, Michael.” The next crash of thunder sounds farther away, and the wind seems to die down a bit.

Michael pulls her in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her and tucking his head into her neck, even as she does the same. They stay that way until the car door opens up again, jolting them out of their shared mind space.

They blink their eyes open to see an unfamiliar woman with dark skin and wild curls peeking into the back seat, a subdued but kind smile on her face. “You kiddos want to come in for a midnight snack?” she asks, tilting her head back toward the bar. “I make a mean chocolate milkshake. Learned from the best.”

Michael looks beyond her to see his mother standing in the doorway to the bar, backlit by yellow light. She nods and waves her hand to gesture them in. Michael helps Isobel sit up and they make their way to the bar, both of them huddled together under an umbrella with the stranger, though it seems to do nothing to prevent them from getting soaked.

He remembers midnight milkshakes mixed by the woman, introduced to them as their mother’s good friend Mimi, though he’s sure he’s never met her before. He remembers the way their mother watched him and Isobel with a sad smile the whole time they drank. He remembers being herded into a spare bedroom and helped into a clean pair of pajamas as his head kept dipping forward and he failed to keep his eyes from drifting shut. He remembers being tucked into a bed with Isobel, his mother trailing her fingers through his hair and down his arm before she pulled the covers above them both. 

He remembers his eyes closing and being unable to reopen them, the emotional toll of the day finally dragging him into sleep. He remembers the gentle, lingering kiss his mother presses to his forehead and the way she whispers, “I love you forever,” against his temple.

Michael Guerin was only seven years old, but he remembers very clearly everything that happened the day of his father’s funeral, because it was also the last day he ever saw his mother.

/

“Why did our mom leave us with you, Mimi?” Isobel asks at dinner one night, several months later. She’s sitting across from him, twirling her fork through her spaghetti with enough focus that Michael knows she’s waiting anxiously for the answer. Truth be told, they both are, though Isobel asks because she’s given up hope their mother will return for them and she just wants answers, while Michael still spends time watching out the window for their mom every night.

Mimi pauses in her chewing and looks over at Isobel, eyeing her closely. Maria, who had frozen when Isobel asked, suddenly kicks out her right foot to nail Michael in the leg, making him yelp. He turns to glare at her and she widens her eyes at him, tilting her head toward her mom, who is now looking at them instead of Isobel. He rolls his eyes at Maria and looks back over to Mimi. “I want to know too, Mimi,” he says quietly.

Mimi’s lips twitch and she shakes her head, sighing. “I suppose you’d be safer if you knew,” she says, then rolls her eyes when Maria sucks in a breath and presses her lips together tightly. “All of you.”

Maria pumps her arm up and down and says, “Yesssss,” kicking out her leg much more gently this time to nudge Michael in excitement.

Mimi’s lips twitch again, but she puts on a serious face and says to them all, “But you can’t tell anyone.” The three of them exchange looks then nod quickly. “Not even Liz,” Mimi emphasizes.

They look at each other again. Liz is Maria’s best friend, and the only person besides Maria that Isobel and Michael have befriended since they came to Roswell. She’s in Michael’s class and they are paired up a lot because they finish their work a lot faster than the other kids. They work on extra projects together and eat lunch together and play at recess together, because Maria and Isobel are one grade higher and don’t have the same recess as them. Michael would say Liz is his best friend, if he didn’t already have Isobel.

Isobel might not even mind him saying that though, because she likes Liz. They take turns picking songs on the jukebox in Liz’s dad’s restaurant and dancing in the aisles while Michael and Maria finish their homework in one of the booths. Maria will rush to finish so she can join them, and even though Michael always brings a book to read when he’s done, he never gets a chance because then Liz is dragging him out of the booth to dance with them too. 

They’re a tight group, so promising to keep a secret from Liz is difficult for them, but they all nod again and promise not to tell Liz about why Michael and Isobel are living with Mimi now instead of their mother.

“Since 1947, people like you,” Mimi says, nodding to Isobel and Michael, “have been tracked, captured, and sometimes killed by alien hunters.”

Isobel nods slowly, accepting of this, but Michael furrows his brow and lifts his shoulders in question. “But why?” he asks.

Mimi sighs and leans across the table to clasp his hand in one of hers. Isobel automatically lifts one of her hands to hold Mimi’s other one when she offers it to her. “Your people came to this planet as refugees, but some humans saw them as invaders, a threat. Despite the laws against it, your people were being hunted, killed.” Mimi shakes her head and licks her lips. “But there were some of us who befriended them, became allies and protected them.” She squeezes both of their hands and smiles at them, then looks over to Maria and nods. “We knew it would be a long time before you were ever really fully accepted on this planet, so we vowed to do all we could to help you in the meantime.”

“The horse,” Michael blurts, looking over at Isobel. “Mom always said we could find safety with a wild pony.”

Mimi smiles and nods, patting their hands before pulling away from them. “Exactly. My family has been protecting your people for generations now. Your mother knew you’d be safe here.” She lets out a long breath; her smile is strained.

Isobel shakes her head and says, voice hard, “But why did she have to leave us at all? Why couldn’t we stay together?”

Mimi’s strained smile falls away and she sighs heavily. “I don’t know for sure,” she says slowly, shaking her head.

Michael leans toward her and says, “But you might know?”

Mimi freezes, eyes widening. “It’s just a theory, based on what we’ve seen of your people throughout the years,” she tells them.

Michael looks over to Isobel, brows furrowed. Did she know what Mimi was talking about? Isobel tilts her head to the side and says, “What is it, Mimi?” Her tone tells Michael she knows, or suspects, what Mimi’s theory is, but he has no idea what it could be.

Mimi sighs again and looks between them. “What I’ve gathered, from family legend, is that your people, when you love, love very deeply. You connect on a level we humans can’t quite comprehend.”

Isobel nods, lips pressed together in a tight white line. She knows where this is going, but Michael’s still confused. “What does that mean?” he asks, looking between the two of them.

Mimi presses her lips together, takes a deep breath, and says, “She loved your father very much.”

Michael nods. He knows his parents loved each other. He remembers them always laughing together, and little gifts they’d get for each other, and them dancing in the kitchen while cooking dinner, and the way they’d look at each other across the couch on movie nights, eyes soft and warm and glittering with love.

He remembers crawling into bed with his mom three nights in a row after his dad died to hold her because her sobs were keeping him awake.

He knows his parents loved each other.

“Mom left us here because she knew she was going to die of a broken heart, and she wanted us to be safe,” Isobel says quietly.

Michael’s gaze snaps over to her, his heart pounding faster. “What?”

Isobel’s eyes are steady on Mimi. “Is that what you think happened?”

Mimi sighs heavily again and shrugs. “I don’t know, baby. I just know I haven’t heard from her since she left.”

Michael looks down at his plate, forgotten during Mimi’s story, and swallows, hard. “My mom’s dead?” It’s barely a whisper, but it catches Maria’s attention.

She slips out of her chair and over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tight.

Michael’s hands stay limp in his lap, eyes going unfocused as a ringing sound drowns out Maria’s whispered words in his ear.

The next thing he knows, he’s lying in his bed in the dark, Isobel on one side of him and Maria on the other. Their arms are tangled over his stomach, while Isobel’s face is tucked into his neck and Maria’s head rests on his chest. Their even breathing tells him they’re asleep. He wonders how much time he missed. He feels like he can barely breathe, but at the same time, their weight is anchoring him where he needs to be.

His arms are trapped beneath his sister and Maria, but he doesn’t need to touch his face to feel the tear tracks on them. He swallows and coughs quietly at the dry feeling in his throat. Staring up at the dark ceiling in his room, he thinks again about his parents’ love, and about those last days with his mother. “I hope I never fall in love,” he whispers.


	2. pieces want to be together

**2004**

Michael keeps the promise not to tell Liz about being an alien until the summer before they start high school. The two of them spend a lot of time at the library, basking in the cool air conditioning while they read and discuss the required summer readings for their upcoming honors classes.

They also manage to convince Mr. Sanders to let them use an unused corner of his salvage yard to conduct science experiments. The only problem with that is that the salvage yard is not on a bus route, so they have to ride their bikes a few miles out of town and back whenever they want to conduct an experiment.

They leave for the salvage yard early in the morning, intending to beat the worst of the heat by biking there before the sun rises fully above the desert. They’ve packed everything they need for a day spent mostly off the grid: water, notebooks, lunch, extra writing utensils, even extra batteries for their calculators. They spend the day in the back corner of the lot, alternately conducting their experiments and laying out on a blanket, writing down results or just basking in the sun. 

They don’t even remember to check the time until the temperature drops a little, making Liz shiver.

She sits up, eyes searching the sky, and Michael does the same. “Crap,” she says, scrambling to start packing up their things. “Did you check the weather this morning?”

Michael follows her lead, shaking his head. “Nah, but I did yesterday, and there was nothing on the radar then.”

Liz rolls her eyes and shoves the notebooks at him to pack into his backpack. “How have you lived here seven years now and not realized the forecast can change from day to day?”

Michael shrugs, tilting his head and quirking his lips. He finishes folding up their blanket and places it in the basket on the front of Liz’s bike. “I don’t know. How have you known me seven years now and not realized I’m not the type to check the weather every morning?”

She starts cursing him out in Spanish as they finish packing up their things and start walking their bikes out to the road. The wind picks up a little, pushing at their backs and hurrying them along.

He throws his head back, laughing, and says, “Wow, that was impressive. You learn that from Rosa?”

Liz’s sister has always been a bit of a wild card, but lately she’s been acting out even more: missing curfew, ditching classes, shoplifting. Teaching her sister the more creative Spanish swears would definitely be something she’d do.

Liz rolls her eyes and pulls on her helmet as they reach the main road and prepares to mount her bike. “I’m not that much of a goody two-shoes,” she says, twisting her lips and scrunching her nose.

Michael shakes his head as he pulls his helmet on. “Bullshit,” he says, tightening his backpack straps over his shoulders and looking over at her as he straddles his bike. “You’re the goodest of the goody two-shoes, Miss Perfect Attendance.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but Michael continues, “Miss Student of the Month for three months in a row.”

“Okay, but--” Liz says.

He shakes his head and interrupts, “Miss Most Likely to Get Three Degrees Before She’s Thirty.”

Liz scowls and leaps forward to plant her hand over his mouth. “That last one was totally fake. We didn’t even do superlatives at our 8th grade promotion.”

He licks her hand and laughs when she squeals and yanks it back. “Yeah, but we did them when we went to that party at the Longs’ later that night.” He narrows his eyes on her and tilts his head, lips twitching. “But oh, I don’t remember seeing you there. Where were you again?” he asks.

Her lips purse and she narrows her eyes at him. “At the Crashdown, helping my dad with post-promotion celebration cleanup.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, lips curling in triumph, but she shakes her head and starts pedaling down the road. He follows, whistling a triumphant tune. 

The rain hits when they’re still a couple miles outside town, a refreshing mist that quickly turns into a hazardous downpour. Michael’s front wheel slips a few times on the now-muddy road, and he slows down a little to steady himself. He calls out to Liz to do the same, but his voice seems to startle her, or she hits a rock, maybe both, and her bike skids out from under her, sending her toppling off the road with a scream, skidding down the embankment, tumbling over herself before landing in a muddy puddle with a loud, sickening  _ crunch _ .

“Liz!” Michael yells, skidding to a stop and almost falling down the embankment too. He drops his bike and runs to the edge, dropping down on his ass to slide down the muddy hill to her. “Liz!” He yells again as he crawls over to her.

She’s white as a sheet, mouth open on a silent scream, whole body frozen as she stares down at her leg. It’s bent at an unnatural angle at the knee, and Michael has to breathe deep and tear his eyes away from it before he gets sick. “Liz?” He finally reaches her side, hand outstretched to cup her cheek.

Her eyes snap to his and a guttural moan rises up from her chest; he can hear it despite the torrential rainfall surrounding them. “M-Michael.” Her voice cracks and her teeth start chattering.

He nods and leans closer, looking into her eyes. “I’m here,” he says, stroking a thumb across her cheek. “You with me, Ortecho?” She doesn’t respond, and his breathing stutters. “Ortecho?”

She shakes her head and leans it back, eyes closing against the rain. She takes a deep breath and says, voice shaking, “My leg.” She shakes her head again, exhaling unsteadily.

He nods and takes a deep breath, still not looking down at it. “It’s broken.”

Liz presses her lips together and nods. “I can’t. I can’t.” She shudders and moans. “I can’t move, Michael.” She reaches out one hand to grip his shirt, knuckles white.

Michael nods again and looks up at the sky. The rain’s not stopping anytime soon, and they can’t stay in this ditch forever; flash floods can be deadly, and Liz wouldn’t stand a chance, being unable to swim. He can’t leave her to get help, but he also can’t carry her back to town.

“Michael,” Liz says, turning back to him, eyes open again and glittering with tears. “I’m scared.”

He nods and cups her face in his hands, shifting up onto his knees. “I’m here, and I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

She brings up her other hand to grip his wrist, nodding. “What are we gonna do?”

He leans back and finally looks down at her leg. “I’m gonna heal it,” he says. He looks back up at her when she makes a confused sound in her throat. “You can’t tell anybody though, okay?”

Her brows furrow in confusion, but she nods. “Okay.”

So he places his hand gently on her knee, takes a breath, and he heals her.

/

“So what else can you guys do?” Liz asks two days later when they’re all lying on the floor in Maria’s room. Michael’s head is in Liz’s lap, her fingers carding through his curls, and every once in a while, he turns his head into the handprint on her leg, his cheek skimming over it and setting the bond between them alight. It’s almost like the bond he shares with Isobel, and feeling that closeness with Liz is addicting, so he does it at least once a minute, taking comfort in Liz’s steady, warm feelings.

Isobel narrows her eyes on the notebook on Michael’s lap and it goes flying across the room toward her. She catches it in her hand and raises a brow at Liz. “Things like that,” she says, giving Liz a haughty half-smile.

Maria laughs and grabs the notebook out of her hand, throwing it back over to Michael, who scowls and folds it protectively against his chest. “That’s not even the best thing they can do,” she says.

Isobel scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

Maria rolls her eyes and nudges her with an elbow. “C’mon, tell her.”

Isobel lets out a long breath and shrugs elegantly, holding out her hands, palms up, and saying, “We can influence people.”

Liz snorts and shakes her head. “What does that mean?”

Michael stretches against her, a plea for her to keep caressing his hair, and says, “You remember how Isobel won Homecoming Queen last year, despite the fact that she was a Freshman and had only been at the high school a couple of months?”

Liz’s jaw drops and her gaze swings up from Michael to Isobel. “Seriously? You used your powers to make yourself popular?”

Maria nods, cackling, and leans over onto Isobel’s shoulder. “It was amazing. You should have seen it: everyone going out of their way to make Isobel happy and befriend her. The most popular guys fighting with each other to ask her out.” She held up both hands in ‘okay’ symbols. “Glorious.”

Liz makes a sound of disapproval, eyebrows coming together. “Isobel,” she says chidingly.

“Goody two-shoes,” Michael whispers up to her.

Liz glares down at him and shifts her knee to lightly knock him in the head. “You  _ know _ that’s super unethical, plus, if someone were to figure it out, that would make you guys such easy targets!”

Isobel rolls her eyes. “Please. We’ve been here seven years and no one’s noticed. You’ve been friends with us and didn’t figure it out!”

Liz shakes her head. “Yeah, but I’m just a 14-year-old kid. If one of the people who hunts aliens were to catch wind of this, and in  _ Roswell… _ ” She sighs and shrugs. “It’s just super risky, is all.”

“Not gonna happen,” Isobel says.

Maria sits up and crawls over to her bed, reaching under and saying, “That’s not what we wanted to talk to you guys about anyways.” She pulls out a large, frail-looking leather-bound book and drags it back to her spot next to Isobel.

“What’s that?” Michael asks, sitting up. He and Liz scoot closer so the four of them create a circle around the book. He tilts his head and sucks in a breath when he sees the title is written in an alien language. His eyes snap up to Isobel and she nods.

Maria says, “I was up in the attic, looking for some vintage clothes to spice up my wardrobe, and I found that in one of the boxes. Didn’t look like any language I’ve ever seen so...” She shrugs and looks over at Isobel.

Isobel flips it open and turns it towards Michael. “It’s about our people, Michael.”

He shakes his head and leans in to run his fingers lightly over the words on the first page. “Can you read this?” he asks her. Their parents had raised them to speak English, and of course they learned to read in English at school. Isobel had only  _ just _ started learning their parents’ native language when they’d been left with Mimi, who of course didn’t know it.

Isobel shrugs and says, “It’s iffy, plus I think it’s really old. It’s a little like reading an ancient text in a foreign language.” She shakes her head and waves that off, “But this is what I wanted to show you.” She flips to a page in the middle of the book and lifts it to put it in his lap. “It’s about soulmates.”

Michael’s head snaps up from the page to her and he shakes his head. “No.”

She sighs and scoots closer, clasping his hands over the book. “I know you don’t like to talk about Mom, but this,” she says, looking down at the book. “This is an explanation for why she might have left. Don’t you want answers?” She bites her lip and tilts her head, eyes pleading with him.

Reluctantly, he sighs and nods. “Yes, but---”

Isobel smiles and says, “Soulmates are a real thing, Michael!” She scoots closer enough that their knees touch and takes his hands in hers. “It says something about ‘a bond strong enough to transcend space and time’!” She lets out a little laugh and shakes his hands. “Where ‘two people are together as one’.”

Michael tilts his head, eyebrows going up. “Is, you didn’t have to translate an ancient alien book to tell me about sex. Mimi explained all that to me  _ years _ ago.”

Maria snickers while Liz says “Michael!” reprovingly and whacks him in the side with the back of her hand. Michael turns and winks at her as she fights a smile.

Isobel rolls her eyes and squeezes his hands to bring his attention back to her. He sighs and turns back to her, raising his eyebrows to encourage her to continue. She says, “It’s not about  _ sex _ , you gross little pervert, it’s about…” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug and looks back down to the book, trying to find the right words. “It’s about a fated, indestructible  _ connection _ with someone. One that could destroy you if it’s severed.”

Michael rolls his eyes in return, but his heartbeat speeds up a bit. “If you say so.”

Isobel’s lips quirk and she shakes his hands. “It also says if we concentrate hard enough, we can get a sense of who they are before we  _ connect _ with them in the real world.”

Michael shakes his head and tries to free his hands, but Isobel tightens her grip. “No, no, no, no, no, Is. I’m not--”

“C’mon, Michael, aren’t you the least bit curious about the person you’re meant to fall in love with?” Maria says, scooting to their sides and gripping his upper arm.

“Not even a little bit,” he says flatly. He looks over to Liz, who bites her lip guiltily. “Really? You too?”

She smiles and lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know, it sounds kind of romantic.”

“Romantic?” he asks flatly. “A partner-killing, ineffable bond with another person?”

Liz furrows her brow and tilts her head. “No, the idea that there’s someone out there who will perfectly understand you for all that you are, someone who will love you despite your bad parts, through thick and thin.” She exchanges a look with Maria and Isobel, who nod at her explanation, then looks back to Michael. “Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds like an awful lot to put on another person.” He looks back to Isobel when she squeezes his hands to draw his attention back to her. “Not interested,” he tells her.

She searches his eyes for a long moment before she sighs. “Ugh, fine,” she says, her grip loosening. “But will you at least sit here with me while I try to find out about mine?”

Liz slides into the spot on his other side and he looks over at her. She shrugs and says, “I mean, I am a  _ little _ curious how this works. Aren’t you?”

He looks around the circle at his three best friends, all of their faces pleading with him to give it a shot. He groans and drops his head forward, squeezing Isobel’s hands. “Fine,” he says. The girls start cheering and he interrupts them with, “I’ll stay, and I’ll sit here to anchor you, Is, but that’s it.”

She tamps down her triumphant grin and nods. “Of course.” The grin comes back full force when he huffs out a disbelieving laugh at her.

She flattens her hands, palms up, on her knees, and he leaves his on top, palms down. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and he feels her enter her mindscape. He closes his eyes as well, but doesn’t follow her down. Instead, he relaxes and listens to her steady breathing in front of him, and the quiet shifting of Maria and Liz next to them.

He suppresses a snort as he thinks about the idea of soulmates. God, what a crock of shit. Isobel’s probably translating--badly--from a children’s storybook or something. But if she wants to believe it, he’ll let her. He knows his parents loved each other deeply, but soulmates? Yeah, right. Stuff like that doesn’t exist. He’s accepted their mom just couldn’t  _ cope _ without their dad, and had left them with someone trustworthy before she fucked off and drowned herself in the bottom of a bottle somewhere. It’s a lot more likely than a  _ connection _ that mysteriously kills you when the person you love dies. It’s a lot more likely than stupid  _ soulmates… _

It’s as he’s having this thought, breathing deeply and evenly in time with Isobel, that he falls asleep. The dream he falls into is...odd. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in, but he feels like he knows it; it’s a meaningful place. The walls are dark brown and his heart beats in time with a melody he knows is playing around him, but that he can’t quite hear. He holds his breath, trying desperately to hear the music, but it’s just out of reach. He lets the breath out in one great woosh of frustration, and all of a sudden, there’s a little boy standing in front of him.

“Hi,” he says, taken aback. He struggles for a second, simultaneously thinking,  _ Where did he come from? _ , and  _ knowing _ the boy’s been there the whole time.

The boy--maybe seven or eight--smiles at him and says, “Hi. Who are you?”

Michael opens his mouth to respond and shakes his head, because something about this isn’t right. It takes him a second--or is it a minute? An hour?--to realize it’s because he’s the same height as the boy, and when he looks down at himself, he’s seven or eight too. “What the fuck?” he says, and the sound of his younger voice swearing echoes around his dream.

The boy giggles; the echoing laugh sounds deeper, older. “Somehow I don’t think that’s your real name,” he says.

Michael shakes his head, trying to clear it. The edges of the room are blurred so much he can’t tell where they are, and trying to focus on them is making him dizzy, so he focuses on the boy again. “Do you know where we are?”

The boy nods and says, “Somewhere safe. Somewhere to go when things get bad.”

Michael hums and tries to look again, but he can’t seem to make his eyes focus on the edges of the room. It’s like one big blur of brown that he somehow knows is wood, but he’s unable to discern more.

“Who are you?” the boy asks again.

Michael sighs and meets his eyes--the boy is easily the most detailed part of his dream. His eyes are a warm, dark brown and he has messy, dark brown hair. There’s a scar on his forehead above his right eye, and his arms are covered in bruises.

“What happened to you?” Michael asks, stepping forward to run his hands gently down the boy’s arms. A jolt goes through him when he does, and the edges of the room focus for a split-second before blurring again. He flexes his left hand as he pulls it away from the boy, wincing at a sharp pain that runs all the way up his arm.

The boy’s eyes widen as he looks down at his arms. “That’s weird. I only ever wear long sleeves so people don’t see the bruises.” He looks down the rest of his body and Michael steps away to do the same. The boy yelps and jumps back when his gaze travels past the hem of his shorts and down to his legs. “What the fuck!” he says, and again, the echo sounds deeper, older. He points down to his right leg, which ends just below the knee, where a cool plastic and metal calf tapers off into his tennis shoe. “What the fuck!” he says again, eyes panicking when they meet Michael’s.

Michael shrugs helplessly and says, “What?”

“That’s not right!” the boy yells, gesturing toward his leg. 

Michael looks it over again and shrugs. “I don’t know, it looks okay to me?” He doesn’t remember noticing the boy’s leg when he first saw him in this dream, but he also doesn’t remember  _ not _ noticing it. Like maybe the fake leg wasn’t there, but then it was, and both versions of the boy were correct.

The boy tilts his head to the side, still eyeing his leg, like maybe he’s come to the same conclusion; it’s not correct, but it’s also not  _ incorrect _ . “You think so?” he asks, finally looking back up at Michael.

Michael looks at his leg again and looks back up to the boy, meeting his dark brown eyes. They feel older than seven to Michael. He nods once, definitively.

The boy’s quiet for a second--a minute? An hour?--before he leans in closer and whispers, “Who are you?”

Michael swallows, not having realized his throat was so dry, and whispers back, “I’m Michael. Who are you?”

The boy leans back again and smiles. “Michael,” he says, testing it out, and the sound of it in the boy’s tone makes Michael’s heart thump wildly in his chest. “My name is--”

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Isobel says loudly, pulling her hands from Michael’s and jolting him awake.

He sucks in a breath so quickly he starts coughing, only able to talk again once he takes a drink from the bottle of water Liz thrusts into his hand. “You okay?” she asks, rubbing her hand up and down his back as he takes small sips, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough from all the coughing. The details of the hazy dream are already slipping away. He looks over at Maria, who’s watching him choke to death on air with a glint of humor in her eyes, and then at Isobel, whose arms are crossed over her chest.

“Did you  _ fall asleep _ when you were supposed to be helping me find my soulmate, Michael?” Isobel asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

Michael shrugs and takes another sip of water, leaning further into Liz as she continues to rub his back. “Maybe,” he says. She scowls at him and he rolls his eyes, throwing the empty water bottle at her. “Why’d you say it was a waste of time?”

The bottle stops midair, just before it hits her in the face, and drops to the ground. Isobel sends him an exasperated look for that, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I couldn’t get much at all about them. Just a feeling of like, openness and joy and...uninhibitedness, I guess?”

Michael snorts. “What were you expecting, a link to their MySpace page?”

The bottle goes flying back towards Michael. “No, Michael, but a little more clarity about their identity would have been nice!” she says, nose scrunching up in irritation. “I didn’t even get a gender.  _ Maybe _ an impression of dark hair?” She bites her lip and looks up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “I think?”

“Well, if that’s all you have to go on, you might as well start with DeLuca here,” Michael says, leaning back onto his hands and gesturing over at Maria with his chin.

Maria sits up straight, eyebrows flying up. “Me?” she asks, looking between the two of them.

“Dark hair, open, joyful, uninhibited. You check all the boxes,” Michael says, shrugging.

Isobel rolls her eyes and leans over to backhand him in the chest. “It’s not Maria.” He tilts his head in question and she rolls her eyes again. “I’d  _ know _ . It says in the book, something about feeling the other person’s emotions or something like that. Maria and I are close, but I don’t feel her emotions.” She looks over at Maria and makes a face. “Could you imagine?”

Maria snorts and rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around Isobel and looking over at Michael. “She’s right. Because if she were my soulmate and able to feel what I feel, she would absolutely, definitely know my deepest shame, and I can guarantee you she does not, or else she’d be ragging me about it at least twice a day for the rest of eternity.”

Isobel’s eyes widen and she leans away from Maria. “What’s your deepest shame, DeLuca, and why am I only just now hearing about it?”

Maria laughs and pulls her closer again, shaking her head and looking back at Michael. “The  _ point _ is, she’s gotta start looking at the other, what, three billion brunettes on the planet?”

Isobel scowls and tries pushing her away again, but Maria only tightens her hold and laughs again.

“I can’t wait to fall in love, and be rid of you assholes,” Isobel grumbles.

“Hey!” Liz says, crossing her arms over her chest with narrowed eyes and a suppressed smile.

“Except you, Liz. You’re my favorite sentient being right now,” Isobel corrects, pushing Maria aside and scooting over to wrap her arms around Liz. She presses a smacking kiss to Liz’s cheek and hugs her close, sticking her tongue out at Maria and Michael.

Michael frowns at having lost his favorite human to his sister and looks over at Maria. They have a quick conversation via raised eyebrows and quirked lips, then simultaneously pick up pillows from nearby and jump at Liz and Isobel.


	3. crash landing

**2007-2008**

The summer Isobel and Maria graduate from high school, Rosa blows back into town after a long year of rehab and an extended visit to Arturo’s mom down in Mexico. She hangs out with them sometimes, catching up after a long time away from her sister, and it changes the dynamics of the group a bit. They are no longer able to be as free about their alien talk as they usually would, and when they make plans to go out together, the group is frequently fractured between the ‘adults’ and the ‘kids’. Despite it being summer vacation, Liz and Michael are focused on summer readings and preparing for the last of their AP classes, while Maria’s enjoying her last break before college, Isobel’s putting off deciding what to do when summer’s over, and Rosa’s revelling in her newfound freedom.

Liz and Michael are happy enough to take a few days to drive up to the Grand Canyon with the others at the beginning of summer, crowded into Liz and Rosa’s tiny sedan, throwing snack foods at each other and arguing over the playlist, but once they get back to Roswell, the two of them are ready to settle into their jobs and studies for the summer.

Isobel, Rosa, and Maria, on the other hand, are itching to explore, to go out and _ do _ things before the end of summer comes to officially ferry them into adulthood. They party in the desert or out at the Longs’ house any night of the week, stay out until dawn, and sleep past noon most days. Mimi sighs and shakes her head at their antics, but her kid and her charge are adults, she says. There’s not much she can do about it.

Toward the end of summer, they leave Michael and Liz behind to take another road trip, this time to Corpus Christi, only bothering to inform them when they’re almost there. Rosa leaves a voicemail on Liz’s phone screaming, “Anything for Salinas!” and according to her, that should be explanation enough.

When they come back, even _ their _ group dynamics have changed. Isobel and Rosa are constantly together, pressed up next to each other in their regular booth at the Crashdown, arms entwined and fingers laced as they exchange sporadic kisses, leaving Maria to be their awkward third wheel, or forgetting to invite her along with them at all.

Liz gags as she watches them from the next booth over one afternoon, books spread out on the table in front of her. She looks at Maria, sitting across from her next to Michael, eyeing her plate of curly fries for her next victim. “Doesn’t that totally gross you out?” Liz asks them.

Maria looks up at her, eyebrows quirked. Liz nods her head towards Rosa and Isobel, who are sitting with their foreheads touching, whispering to each other and giggling. Maria looks over at them and back at Liz, rolling her eyes. “This is mild compared to Texas, so no, not really,” she says with a shrug, poking through her fries again.

Liz gags again and kicks Michael’s shin. “What about you?” she asks when he looks up from his book with a scowl on his face.

“What about me?” he asks, eyes already skittering back down to his book.

Liz kicks him again and he kicks back on reflex, dropping his book and glaring at her. “What?”

She nods over at Rosa and Isobel, who are now making out. Michael turns around and eyes them for a second before he says, “Jesus, how are they even breathing right now?” He leans over the back of the booth and says loudly, “Hey! Unsuction your faces if you want to retain your remaining brain cells!”

Without breaking the kiss, both Isobel and Rosa hold up their middle fingers in Michael’s direction.

He sighs and turns to slide back down into his seat. He shrugs at Liz and says, “I don’t know what you think _ I _ can do about them.”

August bleeds into September in much the same fashion. Maria starts classes at the local community college and Liz and Michael start their senior year of high school.  
  
A week into the new school year, Isobel wakes Michael up in the middle of the night, sneaking into his room and burrowing under the covers with him. She presses cold hands to his chest and he flinches away from her, opening his eyes to squint over at her. “ ‘sobel, what’re you doing?” he groans out. He looks over at his alarm clock. “It’s two in the morning and I have class at 7.”

She’s silent for long enough that he almost drifts back to sleep, but then she whispers, “I’m leaving,” and he bolts up, eyes wide open.

“What?” he yells, and Isobel lunges forward to cover his mouth with her hand.

They both freeze, listening for Maria or Mimi to wake up at his yell, but the house is quiet. She lowers her hand and whispers. “I’m leaving, with Rosa. We’re…” She shrugs, mouth quivering as she struggles to contain her smile. “We’re running away together, I guess.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Isobel, be serious.”

She pouts and says, “I am! We’re going to New York, where she can…” She shrugs and throws her hands up. “I don’t know, be a real artist or something.”

“Well, then what are you going to do?” he asks, taking her hands in his.

She shrugs. “I’ll get a job as a waitress.”

He stares at her. “Isobel, you hate serving food. You took Liz’s shift _ once _ when we had to work on an AP Bio project for an afternoon and you complained about the ‘lingering smell of grease’ on your shirt for weeks. You ended up throwing it away!”

Her lips twist and she rolls her eyes. “Fine! I’ll work in retail. You know how much I enjoy shopping. Maybe I can be a personal shopper!”

He lets go of her hands to rub his face. “Isobel…”

She pulls his hands away from his face and waits until he opens his eyes again, expression serious. “I need to get out of this town, Michael.”

He sighs. “Why? It’s our home. Everyone we love is here.”

“Not everyone,” she says.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, not this again. Isobel, if this is about that soulmate bullshit, I swear to---”

“It’s not, but it is!” She licks her lips and presses her hand to her heart. “I feel like there’s a part of me that’s missing, right here. And maybe it’s my soulmate, but maybe it’s just that I’m not who I’m meant to be yet.” She holds his gaze for a long time before she continues, “All I know is that there’s something bigger out there for me, and I need to go find it.” She smiles, laughs a little. “I need to experience life outside of Roswell, New Mexico.”

He searches her eyes, wondering just how long she’s felt like she doesn’t belong in Roswell and how he could have missed it. “Okay,” he whispers. She nods and lets out a relieved breath and he smiles. “I’ll miss you, though.”

She leans forward and places her forehead to his, pulling him into her mindspace effortlessly. They’re standing on an empty street corner in a city Michael doesn’t immediately recognize, the buildings surrounding them stretching so high they block out the sun. Despite this, and despite the fact that the cityscape is eerily void of any other creatures, it feels bright and warm. It feels big and full of potential, and Isobel looks right at home there.

“I’ll miss you too,” she says, smiling. “But no matter where I go, you’ll always have me. Right?” She leans back and holds out her hand, pinky extended.

He rolls his eyes at her, but his lips quirk when he hooks his pinky with hers. “Right.”

They shake themselves free of the mindscape and are sitting back on Michael’s bed. Isobel shifts to kiss his cheek, ruffling his hair when she pulls back with a smile. “I love you, Michael.”

He glares as he swats her hands away from his hair. “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too.”

She stands up and heads for the door, turning for one last look at him before she leaves, closing his door quietly behind her.

Michael sighs and spends the rest of the night staring up at his dark ceiling, fighting the urge to cry.

/

He falls asleep just as the sun is coming up, so he sleeps through his alarm, as well as several frantic texts from Liz, first about her missing sister, then about him missing their first period AP Calc class.

At the beginning of their lunch period, Michael drops into the seat across from Liz at their usual lunch table on the edge of the football field. “Your sister kidnapped my sister to New York in the middle of the night,” he says, pouting and dropping his head onto his backpack, using it as a pillow.

Liz glances up from her Calc homework and hums. “So I heard, from Isobel.” He raises an eyebrow and she shrugs. “Rosa got tired of my constant phone calls and had Isobel text to explain.”

Michael eyes her closely and says quietly, “She didn’t tell you she was leaving?”

Liz purses her lips and shakes her head, eyes firmly on her homework. “It’s fine.”

Michael kicks out his leg to tangle his foot with hers. “Liz…”

She rolls her eyes and puts down her pencil, looking over at him. “I’m fine. I always knew Roswell wasn’t going to be enough for her. How are _ you _? You and Isobel have always been together. Are you okay?”

Michael’s lips quirk and he puts on his best Liz voice, saying, “I’m _ fine _.”

Liz rolls her eyes and shoves his arm, picking up her pencil again and moving on to the next problem. “You want my notes from Calc?”

Michael groans then says, “Yes, please. And Physics. I didn’t get here until halfway through third period.”

Liz shakes her head even as she opens up her backpack and pulls out her blue calc notebook. “No can do on the Physics ones. I already lent them out to the new kid so he can get caught up, but he said he’d have them back to me by the end of the day. Come to the Crashdown after work and I can give them to you then?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically, even as he nods in thanks as he takes the notebook from her. “I guess.”

The bell rings to signal the end of the lunch period and she starts packing up her bag. “I’ll see you later, Guerin.”

He stands up and shrugs on his backpack before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Always a pleasure, Ortecho.” He salutes to her as he walks off toward his Engineering class.

He makes it through the rest of the day without incident, then heads to work out at Sanders’, where he’s making a little money for college by fixing up all manner of things that people bring in to be fixed.

After work, he walks into the Crashdown to see Liz sitting in their booth across from a guy, laughing hysterically. Michael stops short just inside the door, eyes wide. Liz has been considering, potentially, maybe going out with Kyle for the last six months, but other than that, he’s never heard her really talk about liking a guy before. Now here she is, inviting one into their booth and laughing and smiling across the way at him? And it’s a legit smile, too, not her polite smile or her fake smile, and that laugh is a genuine as it comes with Liz Ortecho.

Michael shakes himself out of his surprise and starts slowing backing toward the door, already thinking of the text he’s going to be sending her demanding to know just who the hell this guy is and why she has never mentioned him before, especially to her best friend. Liz wipes her eyes and as they drift his way, her smile widens; she calls out his name, gesturing him over.

The guy turns around, and for a moment, Michael stops moving, stops breathing. It’s not that the guy’s stunningly attractive, though he is; his warm brown eyes, lightly accented with dark liner, and a septum piercing that Michael would normally not find so hot but works with his looks. It’s that when their eyes meet, Michael’s heart rate triples and he feels a sense of _ home _ spread through him, starting in the middle of his chest and spreading throughout him in a quick wave, leaving his fingers twitching, longing to touch the smooth skin of the guy’s cheek.

Liz’s smile fades and she tilts her head in question, starting to scoot out of the booth. Michael shakes his head and exhales shakily, pasting a smile on his face as he steps forward, gesturing Liz to stay seated. The guy tracks his movement as he makes his way to the booth, head tilted and brow furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Michael takes a deep breath and says, “Hey,” as he slides into the booth next to Liz.

“Hey,” Liz says, nudging his arm with hers, eyes searching his face carefully. She gestures across the way and says, “Michael Guerin, this is the guy I was telling you about earlier, Alex Manes.”

Michael nods to him and says, “The new guy.” He places his hands on his knees under the table, squeezing and unsqueezing rhythmically to help slow down his racing heart. This involuntary reaction he’s having toward Alex is… disconcerting.

Alex’s lips quirk and he shakes his head. “I should just get that tattooed across my forehead. Do you know how many people have called me that today?”

Liz shrugs. “Most of us have known each other since we were in elementary school. Fresh meat’s a hot topic.”

Alex shudders and says, “You make it sound like some sort of predator-prey situation. Should I be worried?”

Liz jumps into an explanation of the people to avoid at their high school and Alex nods along, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. Michael’s silent, eyes narrowing on him as he tries to figure out...he feels like he _ knows _ Alex, somehow. There’s just something so _ familiar _ about him...

“Do I know you?” Michael finally blurts out, and his cheeks immediately heat up when Alex’s gaze swings back to him.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says with a smile. “You seem so familiar, but I feel like…” Alex shakes his head.

Michael nods, “Yeah, no. Like maybe we met when we were younger?”

“Exactly,” Alex says. He licks his lips and says, “But I’ve never been to Roswell before. We move around a lot, because my dad’s in the Air Force.” His smile becomes a little more tight when he mentions his dad. “Have you always lived here?”

Michael hesitates. It’s safer if people forget he hasn’t always lived in Roswell. He and Isobel had come when they were young enough that integrating into the schools and with the other kids hadn’t been too difficult. Reminding anyone he’s an outsider could prompt someone into looking into his past, which is the last thing he needs to keep a low profile. Still, there’s something about Alex that causes him to say slowly, “Have you ever lived in Arizona?”

Alex’s nose scrunches up and he shakes his head. “No. Anywhere else?” Michael shakes his head and Alex looks him over again; Michael makes a valiant effort not to squirm, breaking eye contact quickly. “Hmm. Must be one of those weird coincidences,” Alex murmurs. He shifts his gaze back to Liz and shrugs.

Liz picks up their conversation again but kicks her leg out to hook Michael’s foot with hers: a silent vow to talk about what just happened later.

Michael’s fairly quiet for the rest of the afternoon as Liz gives Alex tips on how to survive their high school while simultaneously grilling him for information about himself. What’s truly masterful is the way Alex tells them plenty about himself without revealing anything more about his family, skillfully turning the questions back on Liz whenever she gets close to the topic. Michael doesn’t think Liz is unaware of the way Alex avoids talking more about his father, but she does try a few more times to steer the conversation that direction before giving up.

The conversation lasts through dinner, and they’re just finishing up when Liz’s phone buzzes and she leaps for it. “Hello?” she answers, even as she’s pushing Michael to get out of the booth so she can take her phone call in a more private place.

Alex watches her leave and raises an eyebrow, lips quirking as he turns to Michael and says, “Boyfriend?”

Michael snorts and shakes his head as he slides back into the booth. “No, no, nothing like that. Hopefully it’s her sister, Rosa. She’s been trying to get ahold of her all day.”

Alex’s eyebrows draw together and he says, “Everything okay?” He picks up a fry and dips it into his milkshake, looking back up at Michael as he drops it into his mouth.

Michael swallows, his heart rate increasing again. “Um, yeah. It’s just, her sister and mine kind of...ran away together in the middle of the night last night? She’s been worried.”

Alex pauses in his chewing, then swallows and takes his time picking out another fry from his dwindling supply as he says, “Why?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Rosa’s kind of a wild card at the best of times. Her and Isobel have burned hot these last few months. I think Liz is worried them running off together is going to end badly for one or both of them.”

Alex lets out a breath and nods, dipping his next fry. He meets Michael’s eyes and says, “And you’re not?”

Michael shrugs. “No, I am, but there’s no way I could convince Is to _ not _ do something she wants to do, and she wanted to go to New York with Rosa. If it works out, great. If it doesn’t, they can always come home…”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Alex says wryly, shoulders dropping a little.

Michael’s lips quirk. “I kind of am. Between Liz and I, only one of us can afford to be stressing out about this. With her sister’s history, she gets first dibs on freaking out, so I’ve gotta figure out a way to be cool with it.”

“Then you can convince her everything’s gonna be alright?” Alex asks, finishing the last of his fries.

Michael shrugs and blurts, “She’s my best friend. It’s kind of my job.” Alex’s eyes soften at that and Michael can feel his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s normally not so open about his feelings; he just feels so _ comfortable _ with Alex, it had slipped out. “I mean…” he fumbles, trying to course-correct and make himself feel less vulnerable for the confession.

Liz steps back up to the booth then, breathless and smiling, bursting to tell them about her conversation with Rosa. Alex’s steady, soft gaze shifts from Michael to her, and Michael takes a deep breath, internally berating himself and reminding himself to play it closer to the chest from now on, because Alex is a complete stranger.

/

_ September 28, 2007 _

_ Isobel, _

<strike> _ There’s this new guy at school, Alex, and I think _ </strike>

<strike> _ When you first got together with Rosa, how did you _ </strike>

_ I’m glad you’re settling into your apartment in Brooklyn alright. I’ve sent some more of your winter sweaters; I’ve heard it gets colder a lot faster in New York. _

_ Things here are fine. Maria’s taking extra classes and working more shifts at the bar, so Liz and I barely see her. We’ve started hanging out with this new kid, Alex. He seems alright. _

_ Let me know if you need me to send any more of your stuff. _

<strike> _ I miss you. _ </strike>

_ I love you. _

_ Michael _

/

_ December 14, 2007 _

_ Michael, _

_ I hope this gets to you before Christmas. I asked Rosa to send it weeks ago, but she kept forgetting, so I’m taking it myself before work tomorrow morning. _

_ Glad to hear finals went okay. Have you heard back from any of the places you applied to for early admissions? I feel like you would have told me, but I’ve been really busy lately and I feel like I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you. I miss you. _

_ New York is beautiful in the winter. I wish you could come visit me to see it for yourself. _

_ Love to Liz and Mimi and Maria (is she okay? I feel like I haven’t talked to her in ages either. Tell her to text me back, damn it!). _

_ I love you. Merry Christmas! _

_ Is _

/

_ February 11, 2008 _

_ Is, _

_ I hope you like the cookies. Maria, Alex, Liz, and I spent the entire afternoon yesterday baking and icing them. I’m sorry, but you and Rosa get the rejects; Liz swears she doesn’t care, but I can tell she wants her first Valentine’s Day as part of a couple to go well. (I think Kyle would be happy just to get past second with her, to be honest. The cookies are totally unnecessary.) _

_ Maria has a date on Thursday with some guy named Chad from her Accounting class. Please tease her extra for 1) going out with a Chad and 2) going out for a first date on Valentine’s Day. There’s no way this will end badly. _

_ Alex and I will be avoiding all things romantic that evening by ordering a pizza and having a Star Wars marathon. (Don’t even start--he insisted when he found out I’ve never seen them, and obviously I couldn’t refuse, because then I’d have to explain that I don’t like movies where aliens are painted in a bad light for personal reasons.) _

_ Anyways, I’ve gotta go--got a shift at Sanders’ after school. Trying to save up as much money as I can, in case the scholarship doesn’t pan out. _

_ Love you, miss you, blah blah blah, _

_ Michael _

/

_ April 16, 2008 _

_ Michael, _

_ Passing through Chicago on my way to L.A. and thought I’d send you a postcard! The picture doesn’t do it justice; the water really does look neverending. I’ll bring you with me next time... _

_ Love you! _

_ Isobel _

/

Michael’s trying to concentrate on this last problem, he really is, except Alex is sitting on the counter a few feet away from him, strumming a vaguely familiar song on his guitar. Liz and Maria are cleaning up the last of the booths while they listen along, laughing and pulling each other into impromptu dances as they go.

Michael’s on the last problem of his Calc homework, trying to finish up so they can all go to a late movie, but his gaze keeps straying to Alex. The way his fingers nimbly strum the strings on his guitar. The slight flush in his cheeks from laughing at the girls. The way he bites his bottom lip to prevent his smile from growing too wide.

He jolts out of his reverie when Maria asks Alex, “What song is that?”

Michael flushes and looks back down at his homework, but he sees Alex shrug out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know yet. I just made it up,” Alex replies, strumming a few more notes.

Michael’s eyebrows meet and he shakes his head, looking back up at him. “What? Are you sure?”

Alex laughs. “Pretty sure,” he says drily. “I’ve been working on it for a while now. You guys are the first to hear it. What’d you think?” He looks over at Liz and Maria before settling on Michael again.

Michael’s eyes widen. “It was fine,” he blurts, then winces.

Alex’s lips twitch. “Wow. ‘Fine.’ A glowing endorsement, Guerin, thanks.”

Liz rolls her eyes and steps forward, putting her hand on Alex’s knee and looking up at him. “Don’t listen to Michael. He’s an idiot.” She takes a second to send him a glare before looking back up at Alex with a big smile. “I thought it sounded great.”

Alex’s lips twitch again and he rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

Liz and Maria go back to clearing tables and Alex sets his guitar aside to help them. Michael turns back to his homework, biting his lip to keep from cursing himself aloud.

When they get to the theater a while later, Alex and Liz offer to get snacks while Michael and Maria find seats. The two of them are settled in, waiting for their friends to find them and the previews to start, when Maria leans over and says quietly, “So, are you going to ask him, or were you just hoping he’d read your mind and figure it out?”

Michael scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “Shut up.”

Maria smirks and continues, “Because if that’s the case, I’m not sure insulting his music is sending the right message.”

Michael sinks down lower in his chair and shakes his head. “I didn’t insult his music! I liked it!”

Maria flutters her lashes and lowers her voice to say, “Um, yeah, Alex, I thought it was fine.”

“I didn’t say it like that!” Michael says, voice whiny. “It just sounded...whatever”.

Maria rolls her eyes and returns to her normal voice. “Okay, but you weren’t exactly _ enthusiastic _ about it, which you should be, considering you totally want to jump his bones.”

Michael covers his face with his hands, wishing he could take back his confession to Maria about his feelings for Alex. “Shut. _ Up _.”

Liz and Alex enter the theater then, laden with popcorn and drinks. Liz scoots past Michael to slide into the seat next to Maria, leaving the one on the end, next to Michael, free for Alex to drop into. Maria leans over Liz as she’s getting situated, eyebrows raised, and her eyes dart pointedly between Michael and Alex.

Michael narrows his eyes, lips pressed firmly together, and shakes his head vehemently. 

Her eyes widen and she gives him a Look. Before he can shake his head again she says loudly, “Alex, we were just talking, and I realized that since Liz and Kyle are going to prom together, you and Michael will be on your own, together.”

Alex freezes, holding a piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth, and leans over Michael to talk to her. “I guess,” he says slowly, eyes narrowed on her, and then he looks at Michael. “Did you want to go together or something?”

Michael swallows and nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Alex tilts his head, eyes searching Michaels’ before he says, “Okay, cool.”

Michael turns to glare at Maria, who merely rolls her eyes and looks back at the movie screen. Liz’s eyebrows are high on her forehead as his gaze slides over to her, mouth open in a small o. The lights start to dim and the previews start before they have a chance to say anything else.

Just as the opening credits start rolling, Alex’s foot nudges his, then hooks around his ankle. Michael can feel his face flame, and his head whips over to look at Alex. Alex’s gaze is steady on the screen, but his nose scrunches up and his lips twitch as he flips his hand over on his lap, palm up, and slides it over to the arm rest between their seats.

Michael fights his grin as he slides his hand over on top of Alex’s, interlacing their fingers, his own gaze slowly returning to the screen. Alex squeezes his hand lightly, and Michael squeezes back.

/

_ This is Michael. I’m too busy to talk to you right now, so leave a message. I’ll get back to you when I get back to you. _

Hey, it’s me! I was hoping to catch you just before you left, but I forgot about the time difference. Now that we’re only an hour apart, you’d think it would be easier to remember! Anyways, have fun tonight! I expect plenty of pictures of you and Liz, and also this Alex guy. Maria tells me he’s a real looker, and if you’re interested in him, he must be great. Love you, miss you! Call me tomorrow!

/

_ This is Michael. I’m too busy to talk to you right now, so leave a message. I’ll get back to you when I get back to you. _

Hey! You were supposed to call me yesterday to tell me about prom, and you didn’t! Liz hasn’t responded to my texts either, and I’m actually getting a little bit worried? Everything’s okay, right? I had this dream the other night that something was wrong with your hand? I don’t know, it was really weird… I don’t know why I’m so worried. You’re probably all just hung over from After Prom, even two days later. I’ll, uh. I’ll call you again tomorrow, I guess! Love you!

/

_ It’s Izzy! Sorry to miss your call, but if you leave a message, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can! Thanks! _

Hey. Um, sorry I didn’t call you the other day. Something happened after prom, with Alex’s dad, and I got hurt. I-I’m fine! But I did get… a little bit… hurt. No worries though, because Mimi and Maria helped patch me up. I’ll be fine in no time. Love you.

/

His hand still throbs days later, but they’ve done all they can. Michael can’t heal himself, Isobel’s not there to heal him, and he can’t go to the hospital. After Mimi sets his fingers the best she can herself, lips pressed together so hard they turn white, and Maria holds his other hand while he cries into her shoulder, he manages the pain by downing copious amounts of acetone and sleeping for two days straight.

When Monday rolls around, he’s still too delirious with pain to make it to school, but he makes a valiant effort at trying to leave, even with Maria shoving him back into bed.

“No!” he yells, scooting to the other side of his bed to escape her, but he’s still too slow. She meets him on the other side, blocking him from standing up. He glares up at her and says, “I have to see Alex! I have to make sure he’s alright! School’s the only place I’ll be able to see him now!”

Maria shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she continues to block him from getting out of bed. “Liz is there. She’ll talk to him and see how he is, report back to us about it. You really shouldn’t be going to school like this.”

Michael scowls, wiping his uninjured wrist across his forehead, where there’s a fair amount of sweat beading. “I _ need _ to see him.”

Maria shakes her head. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

“Maria!” he yells, grunting as he starts scooting to the other side of the bed again. 

“Michael! You heard what Mom said! His father is an alien hunter!” Maria drops onto the bed next to him and grips his uninjured hand in hers. He freezes, staring down at the comforter and breathing hard. Maria takes a deep breath and continues, “Alex may not be part of the family business, but his father is _ evil _. He maimed you for having sex with his son. What do you think he’d do to you if he looked a little closer and found out you’re an alien?”

Michael clenches his fists and inhales sharply at the jagged pain that shoots up his left arm. Tears spring to his eyes and he shakes his head. “Maria, I have to know he’s okay,” he says softly. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Jesse Manes with his hands around Alex’s throat.

Maria sighs and leans forward to press her forehead against his. “I know. I’m worried about him too. But Liz is at school right now, and she’ll let us know how he’s doing once she finds him and figures out what’s going on. Okay?”

Michael nods, his forehead brushing hers, and whispers, “Okay. I just _ need _ to know”

He drinks a bottle of acetone at Maria’s insistence and falls into a fitful sleep. When he wakes up, he can hear Liz and Maria’s soft tones out in the hallway, and that wakes him up fast. “Liz?” he calls out, looking over at the clock in confusion. Maria walks in, biting her lip, and Liz follows, brows drawn together. “What are you doing here?” he asks, shifting to sit up. “Have you seen Alex yet? How is he? Is he okay?”

Liz lets out a slow breath and exchanges a look with Maria. She looks back and Michael and walks over to sit next to him on the bed. “I saw him this morning for a few minutes as he was cleaning out his locker,” she says, placing her hand gently over Michael’s uninjured one.

Michael sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “What...what do you mean?” he says.

Liz looks over at Maria again before she sighs and meets Michael’s eyes. “Alex is gone.”


	4. what i want doesn't matter

**2008-2017**

_ June 11, 2008 _

_ Happy Graduation!! _

_ I know I already told you I was sorry I couldn’t make it, but I hope this (very generous) gift helps make up for it?? _

_ I am so proud of you, for graduating top of your class, and for your scholarship. You are going to rock it at UNM! _

_ Love, love, love, _

_ Is  _

/

_ It’s Izzy! Sorry to miss your call, but if you leave a message, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can! Thanks! _

Hey! Just checking in. The room’s fine, and my roommate’s...fine. I don’t know, it’s hard to say after one day. And it’s different. I miss you. I miss...everyone. Anyway, classes start on Monday, and I’m taking extra so I doubt I’ll be partying that much, but I’ll keep your suggestions in mind. Hope you’re taking care of Liz, showing her around town. Text me later, maybe we can all do a Skype session. Love you!

/

Jan. 1, 2009

[From: Isobel] HAPPY NEW YEAR!! :-) :-) :-)

[To: Isobel] Wow, you actually remembered. I’m impressed.

[From: Isobel] :-p shut up. ur only 1 hr ahead of me, i was bound to remember it at some point

[To: Isobel] Liz is the one who reminded you, isn’t she?

[From: Isobel] ...shut up. she says happy new year too, mikey!

[To: Isobel] Wow she must be pretty drunk to be calling me Mikey.

[From: Isobel] michael! of course she’s not drunk! she’s only 19! that would be super illegal!

[To: Isobel] Uh huh. Be safe.

[From: Isobel] always am!

[To: Isobel] Happy New Year to you and Liz. 

[From: Isobel] hugs to you and maria from the both of us!

/

_ It’s Izzy! Sorry to miss your call, but if you leave a message, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can! Thanks! _

Hey! Maria just told me about your new job in San Fran! Congratulations! Guess this means I won’t be seeing you when I come to L.A. for spring break then, huh? Ah, well. There’s always summer break!

/

_ This is Michael. I’m too busy to talk to you right now, so leave a message. I’ll get back to you when I get back to you. _

Hey! You remember that place I wanted to take you to for sushi on your last night here? Ty just saw it on the news--shut down because of a rat infestation, so. Good call on asking for Italian instead. Anyways, can’t wait to see you next week for your graduation! By the way, did you and Liz decide to have a competition or something? She graduates a year early and you graduate with two degrees? You’re both way too ambitious in my opinion. Love you! Talk to you later!

/

Nov. 8, 2012

[From: Isobel] Michaelllll…..

[To: Isobel] What’s up? You called like five times. Are you dying?

[From: Isobel] i’m dying of lovesickness

[To: Isobel] That’s not a real thing, Is.

[From: Isobel] i swear it is. there’s this new woman at work and she’s just. so. beautiful.

[To: Isobel] So ask her out.

[From: Isobel] omg michael! i can’t just ask her out! then she’d know i like her!

[To: Isobel] Yeah. And then you might get to date her.

[From: Isobel] omfg no i can’t do that! 

[To: Isobel] Is.

[From: Isobel] no, i can’t think about this anymore, i’ll go crazy. tell me about your love life instead.

[To: Isobel] There’s not much to tell. I’ve been busy.

[From: Isobel] i accepted that excuse when you were double majoring and still wanted to graduate in four years, but that excuse is no longer valid. you haven’t had a proper date since, what, high school? with that alex guy? whatever happened with that anyways? you never said.

[To: Isobel] Nothing happened. We went out, then at the end of high school, he joined the Air Force. I haven’t had time for more than a casual fling since.

[From: Isobel] you really need to get out more…

/

October 25, 2013

Is,

I know you’re busy with your move down to New Orleans, but it would be super great if you could give Maria a call sometime. She won’t say it, but I think she’s overwhelmed with taking over the bar, and taking care of Mimi as she’s been sick. I’ve been helping out at the bar when I can and taking care of Mimi, but between living and working out at Sanders’ and taking classes for my Master’s program, I don’t have a lot of extra time. 

I also think she’s a little lonely. You haven’t been around in ages, and Liz was only here for a couple weeks last summer before she left for her internship in Chicago. I’m here, but apparently there are some things she can only talk to you about? I don’t know, she was being very snippy and I didn’t want to push. Just call her, okay?

Michael

/

_ This is Michael. I’m too busy to talk to you right now, so leave a message. I’ll get back to you when I get back to you. _

Oh my god Michaelllllllll! Why don’t you ever pick up your phone! I need to introduce you to this girl, Melly--

\--Actually, it’s Melanie.--

\--Melanie! Melanie, sorry! Michael, this girl Melanie, who is the love of my life! She’s so pretty, and her hair is dark, and I just know she’s The One, you know? She’s just, like. Perfect. And I--

\--Give me the phone, Isobel. Hi, Michael. This is Melanie. Your sister, who I just met tonight, by the way, is spectacularly trashed, and I’m going to call her a cab. Just wanted you to know that she’s safe. Sorry for the mess of a voicemail.

/

_ It’s Izzy! Sorry to miss your call, but if you leave a message, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can! Thanks! _

Isobel, if I knew where you were right now, I would fly there immediately and murder you. I cannot believe you sent 25 strippers to the Pony for me. Maria was livid. They wouldn’t leave until I let them sing the entirety of ‘Happy Birthday’ and let them strip down to their underwear. You are  _ lucky _ they drew the line at forcing me to sit through 25 lap dances.

/

Feb. 17, 2016

[From: Isobel] Michael. I’ve met the most incredible man.

[To: Isobel] Yeah? What’s he like?

[From: Isobel] Okay, first? He’s so sexy I sometimes just want to fuse my skin into his.

[To: Isobel] Wow. Sounds intense.

[From: Isobel] But it’s more than that! He’s kind and smart and just… !!!! You know?

[To: Isobel] No, because I’ve never met him. But if you like him, he must be great.

[From: Isobel] Michael, I more than like him. I love him. I know I’ve said it before, but I legitimately think he’s the one this time. No, I know it. He’s my soulmate.

[To: Isobel] ...You sure?

[From: Isobel] Michael, I have never been more sure of anything in my life. Ever. He’s the one.

[To: Isobel] What’s his name?

[From: Isobel] Noah.

[To: Isobel] I can’t wait to meet him. You’re still coming for Maria’s birthday, right? You should bring him.

[From: Isobel] Of course!

[To: Isobel] Awesome! Mimi’s been sick again, and I know she’s looking forward to seeing you.

[From: Isobel] Wouldn’t miss it!

/

December 17, 2016

Is,

Merry Christmas! We’re all bummed you couldn’t make it home for the holidays, so here are some cookies for you and Noah. We really need to find a time that works for him to come; we all really want to meet him!   
  


Until then, love from us all!

Michael

/

_ This is Michael. I’m too busy to talk to you right now, so leave a message. I’ll get back to you when I get back to you. _

Michael, please,  _ please _ pick up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know, I should be there. I  _ want _ to be there, but Noah really needs me right now. I can’t leave him. I’m--I’m sorry! I wish...

/

_ It’s Izzy! Sorry to miss your call, but if you leave a message, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can! Thanks! _

Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Mimi almost  _ died _ , but  _ Noah _ needed you more? Bullshit. Mimi’s like our mom. … God, I’m so pissed at you for not being here right now, but. … Just...give me a couple of days to cool off, and then I’ll call you back. Okay? I love you.

/

Michael’s working the bar for the afternoon when the door slams open and Liz enters and yells, “Hey Mikey!”

He grins and shakes his head, continuing to wipe down the bar while she skips over, face flushed red, a huge smile making her eyes and nose scrunch up. “Mikeeeyyyyy!” she sings, launching herself onto a stool and leaning over the bar, making grabby hands for him.

He rolls his eyes and pulls her into a hug over the bar, turning his face into her neck and breathing deep. “Missed you too, Ortecho,” he says into her hair. Even if it’s only been a couple months since she’s been home, just after Mimi’s accident.

She gives him an extra squeeze before she pulls back and sinks back onto her stool. “Where’s Maria?”

Michael finishes wiping down the counter and pulls out a glass to pour her a drink. “She took Mimi to her final checkup. They should be back soon,” he says, glancing over at the clock.

Liz nods and sips her drink. “How’s she doing? How’s Maria doing?”

Michael shrugs and pulls out a knife, starts slicing up limes so he doesn’t have to do it when it’s busier. “Mimi’s fine, physically. I’ve been keeping an eye on her injuries, helping to ease the pain when I can, without raising too much suspicion. I still can’t figure out what’s causing her to be sick all the time though, so I haven’t been able to heal it.”

Liz bites her lip. “And Maria?”

He sighs. “I found her drinking alone and crying at the counter the other night after closing, so.”

Liz nods again as she downs the rest of her drink. “Well,” she says, mustering up another smile. “I’m here now. Maybe I can help.”

Michael smiles as he goes back to slicing the limes. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. How long are you here for this time?” Liz is quiet for long enough that he looks back up at her, sees her sporting a huge grin. “What,” he says warily.

“You remember Kyle Valenti?” she asks, practically vibrating in her seat.

Michael says, “Of course I do. You dated him for a year, among other things I can’t ever unsee.” Liz snorts a laugh and Michael shudders as they both remember Michael walking in on Liz and Kyle  _ in flagrante delicto _ at Kate Long’s graduation party. He continues, “On top of that, he saved Mimi after the accident, and has been doing her follow-ups ever since.”

Liz hums. “I didn’t know that. Another reason to thank him, I suppose,” she says, tone lascivious.

“And the first reason is…?” he asks, scooping the lime slices into a bowl.

“He told me about this great study going on at the hospital, and encouraged me to apply for it.” He freezes and looks up at her again, eyebrows raised. She shrugs and says casually, “I start on Monday.”

His grin is slow to grow, but his hollar is loud as he bolts around the bar to swoop her up into a hug, spinning her around as she laughs in his ear. He puts her down and pulls away to look down into her eyes. “You’re home for good?”

“I am,” she says, pulling him in for another hug.

/

Michael’s fine, if anyone asks.

It’s been nine years since he’s seen Alex, beautiful in his gray suit for prom; even more beautiful lying next to him on the couch in the shed, golden skin glowing in the soft light, eyes warm and happy. He still thinks about him often, wonders if he’s safe and happy. Hopes he is, even on the nights he wakes up screaming, clutching his hand to his chest as he relives the moment their perfect night was ruined by Alex’s father.

He’s worked for years on being okay with the way things ended--a note in his locker that read “I’m sorry,” and no way to contact Alex--and on most days he can almost honestly tell the girls he’s moved on. He can even convince himself, sometimes, when he has a particularly amazing first date, that he’d been mistaken in thinking Alex was his person, his soulmate, because surely he’d be unable to move on if that were the case, right?

Only it turns out, maybe Michael was still a bit in denial about Alex not being his soulmate, because when he finds out Alex is dead, he doesn’t handle it well at all.

It’s a Friday night and he’s working a shift at the Pony again, alongside Maria. Liz and Kyle are canoodling in a nearby booth, and Michael rolls his eyes as he moves to the booth behind them to clear the empties. He’s just finished loading most of the empty glasses into his bucket when he sees the local newspaper sitting on the bench, headline reading: “NRHS grad killed in Afghanistan.”

There’s a buzzing in his head, muffling the sounds around him, and he watches in slow motion as his hand reaches out to pull the newspaper closer. His hand shakes as he lifts it from the table and unfolds it to see Alex’s yearbook photo on display under the headline, next to a map identifying where the explosion had occurred.

The buzzing’s louder now, the only sound filling his head, and there’s a sharp pain in his left hand. He tears his eyes from Alex’s photograph to see blood dripping from his hand, a long gash along the palm, pieces of jagged, bloody glass sticking out of it. A soft, familiar hand cups it gently and Michael looks up into Liz’s warm brown eyes, which are narrowed in concern. Her lips move, but he can’t quite make out what she’s saying.

Kyle shifts around her to look down at Michael’s hand. His eyebrows come together as he takes a long look, then his gaze shifts up to Michael. Kyle’s lips move too, but Michael still can’t understand what he’s saying. Kyle turns to Liz, whose glances between the two of them are panicked, and that’s when Michael stops trying to pay attention to what’s happening around him.

When he comes to, he’s reminded of the night he found out his mom was probably dead. He’s in the middle of a bed, and there’s a familiar, warm woman on either side of him. It’s dark, except for the light of the moon shining through the window and a sliver of light from outside the cracked bedroom door. A glance at the alarm clock on Maria’s bedside table tells him he’s been out for several hours.

He lets out a shaky breath and shifts to extract himself from Maria and Liz. As he places his left hand down on the bed to help lever himself up, he feels a sting in his palm. He lifts it and can see it’s been cleaned and wrapped neatly. He flexes his fingers and thinks he even feels the pull of stitches. He continues to move slowly, not wanting to wake the girls as he sneaks out, back to his Airstream behind the bar to grieve in peace.

When he gets out to the living room, he’s surprised to see Kyle sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels mindlessly. 

“Hey,” he says slowly.

Kyle glances over at him and says, “Hey. How’s your hand?”

Michael looks down at it and flexes again. There’s the decade-old ache of broken, never-healed-quite-right bones, and the more recent sting of a slashed palm. “Fine, I think. What happened?”

Kyle stands up with a groan and stretches, turns off the TV and makes his way over, holding his hand out for Michael to place his in it. “A glass broke in your hand, slashed up your palm.” He gently unwraps the bandage and looks at the wound. “I should be able to take the stitches out in a few days, a week at the most.”

Michael sighs and shakes his head. “Thanks, but I can’t come to the hospital. I’ll just take them out myself.”

Kyle shakes his head as he rewraps Michael’s palm. “No, I’ll do it here, it’s fine. I know you don’t like hospitals.”

Michael tenses as Kyle finishes wrapping his hand. Kyle lets go and steps back, doesn’t say anything about it, but meets his eyes steadily. Michael swallows hard and nods once. “Okay,” he says slowly, eyes searching Kyle’s.

Kyle smiles. “Okay.” He walks over to one of the kitchen chairs and grabs his jacket, folds it over his arm. “I gotta go, but call me if your hand starts feeling funky.” He leaves before Michael can respond.

Michael shakes his head and lets out a long breath, then does a double-take when he sees a small bottle of nail polish remover on the table near where Kyle’s jacket had been. There’s a sticky note on the front that reads, “No more than four ounces every six hours, as needed to manage pain.”

“What the fuck,” Michael whispers, pocketing the bottle and seriously contemplating waking the girls up to demand who told Kyle he was an alien, but his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket just then.

“Hey,” he answers quietly as he makes his way out of the apartment and down the back stairs towards his Airstream.

“Hey,” Isobel says, voice rough. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours. Is something wrong?”

He pauses just inside the door of his trailer, pulling the phone away long enough to check--he sees multiple missed calls and several increasingly frantic text messages, all from his sister.

“No,” he says, but there’s a lump in his throat that belies the statement.

“Michael.”

He swallows and collapses onto his bed, burrows beneath the blankets and says, “You remember that guy Alex I dated?”

There’s a pause and then, “The guy you went to prom with, who was with you when you got into the accident that fucked up your hand, and then ditched you the next day?”

Michael closes his eyes and lets out a long breath as his heart twists in his chest. “That’s the one.”

There’s another long pause, and then Isobel makes a questioning sound. “Okay, what about him?”

“I--” There’s a lump in his throat, and he swallows a few times to get rid of it. Finally he says quietly, “I found out he was killed in Afghanistan a few weeks ago.”

He can hear her exhale into the phone before she says, “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t know you guys were still in touch.”

Tears fill his eyes and he shakes his head. He has to take a couple of deep breaths before he can respond. “No, we weren’t, but…”  _ I’ve loved him, for a long time. I’ve never been able to get over him. I thought he was my soulmate. _ He doesn’t say any of those things, because he’s  _ never _ been able to admit them out loud. So he says, “He was my first, you know?”

Isobel makes a sympathetic sound, like she understands. But how can she? She doesn’t even know he’s mourning a long-lost love. “I’m so sorry,” she says again. “Is there anything I can do?”

Michael shakes his head and says, “No. I’ll be fine. I just need a little time to process, I think.” They talk for a few minutes before Michael says he needs to hang up.

He needs time to process the fact that Alex Manes is dead. He needs time to face the fact that as much as he’d insisted he was over Alex, he hadn’t let him go all these years later. That he still thought of him, of the feelings he inspired, of the home he created, of the love he shared. He needs time to process the fact that Alex could not be his soulmate, because if he were, Michael would be dead too. Just like his mom after his dad’s death, right?


	5. running hot

**2018**

At their ten year high school reunion, Liz makes Michael dance with her no less than five times. As the night progresses and the drinks flow more freely, Liz’s moves get increasingly more provocative while Michael’s just get more awkward. He finally bows out and leaves to wander the venue when Kyle shows up after his shift at the hospital and takes over with Liz.

Michael wanders into one room and is immediately faced with a life-size photograph of Alex playing his guitar on the bleachers by the football field. That’s when he decides to call it a night and head home.

His sleep is restless, filled with a mixture of nightmares of the horrors on prom night, the sound of familiar screaming in an unidentifiable desert landscape, and an inexplicable ache in his right leg.

At one point, the swirling desert sands freeze around him and all of the noise stops. Michael squints, reaching out his hand to swipe at the frozen grains of sand, and says, “Hello?”

There’s a response, but it’s too far away to hear clearly. He takes off in the direction he thought he heard the voice, closing his eyes against the sand, waving his arms in front of himself to clear the path. “Hello?” he calls, louder.

The voice is right next to him when it yells, “Michael!”

Michael jolts awake with a gasp. “Isobel,” he says, scrambling for his phone. It starts ringing as he lifts it from the bed beside him. “Isobel,” he gasps out when he presses to accept her call.

“Michael,” she whispers. Her voice is shaking; it sounds like she’s crying.

“What is it?” he asks, pulling his pants on and looking around for his keys. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Noah,” she says, voice breaking on the name. “I think-- I think he’s like us.”

Michael freezes, eyes widening. Despite the number of years Isobel’s been with Noah, he’s never met the man, and to learn he might be an alien… “Are you sure?” he asks, swallowing hard.

Isobel sobs and says, “Yes, and I think he’s-- I think he’s done something bad. Will you come get me?”

Michael snaps into action, levitating his keys to himself as he exits the Airstream and heads for his truck. “Where are you?”

Isobel lets out a shuddery breath and says, “Just outside Amarillo.”

Michael jumps into his truck and peels out of the parking lot behind the Pony. “It’s the middle of the night, so it should only take me three hours or so. Find someplace safe to hole up, away from him, and send me the directions. I’m coming, Is.”

True to his word, he makes the nearly four hour trip in a little less than three, pulling into a motel parking lot just as the first rays of sunlight start streaking across the sky. He barely has time to put the truck into park before Isobel is bolting out of the lobby, jumping in through the passenger door and yelling, “Go, go, go!”

Michael doesn’t think, just drives, reaching his hand out for Isobel’s as he pulls back out onto the road. “Isobel,” he says, glancing over at her.

Her eyes are red, makeup streaking under them, and her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head. She shakes her head and presses her lips together hard, eyes trained on the rearview mirror as she watches for a pursuer. “Michael, I--” She shakes her head again.

“Isobel, talk to me,” he says eyes flickering up to check the rearview mirror as well. “What happened with Noah?”

She lets out another shaky breath and says, “I told him, last night, about what we are.” She squeezes his hand and breathes deep. “He seemed shaken, at first, which I kind of expected, but then he told me he loved me.” Her face crumples and the tears start streaming again. “I just wanted to make _ sure _, you know? So I waited until he was asleep, and then I got into his mind, to check, and when I did…” She shakes her head and covers her eyes with her free hand.

“You had never gone into his mind before?” he asks, changing lanes to pass a few slow drivers.

She shakes her head again. “No! I trusted him!”

“What exactly did you see in his head, Isobel?” he asks.

She squeezes his hand again and swallows hard. “I think he’s an alien, and I think he’s used his powers to kill people.”

Michael swears a blue streak and Isobel nods once. If she’s right, Noah’s the type of alien that gives all of them a bad name. He’s the reason, more than seventy years after their people have come to Earth begging for asylum, they still have to keep their origins a secret.

They keep driving. They don’t stop until they hit Clovis, where Michael pulls in at a gas station just outside of town. Isobel is slumped against the widow, having finally succumbed to sleep after an emotionally taxing night, so he starts pumping the gas and runs into the store to grab them both a coffee.

The old man at the counter is disgustingly chipper despite the early hour, but Michael perseveres, making it outside again just as his tank finishes filling. Isobel’s still asleep, and she doesn’t stir at all as they make their way back onto the highway, even when Michael has to slam on the brakes to avoid running into a maniac in a black SUV that is arriving at the same time they are exiting the gas station parking lot.

He hovers right around the speed limit all the way back to Roswell, as not to draw suspicion to himself. Isobel doesn’t stir until they’re ten minutes outside of town, when she bolts awake, arms flailing out wide to hit him in the arm as she gasps, “Turn here!”

Michael swears, but does as she says. “Any particular reason you want us to head out to the middle of the desert at this very moment?” he asks, glancing over at her as he slows down to go off-road.

Isobel shakes her head and says, voice hoarse with sleep, “Intuition. We need to go this way.” She continues to point the way for him, barely saying a word as they make their way further out into the desert, toward the old turquoise mines. Her silence makes him wary.

They’re well into the desert when, in the distance, he sees another car out in the middle of nowhere. Isobel seems to be directing him that way, and he stops fifty feet from it. There’s a man casually sitting on a rock nearby. Michael puts the truck into park warily, then looks over at Isobel. “Stay here,” he starts to say, but she’s already climbing out.

Michael scrambles after her, rounding the truck and following her toward the man--Noah, he thinks, based on the pictures he’s seen. “Isobel, stay in the truck!”

“What took you so long?” Noah calls out, as Isobel makes her way over to perch next to him on the rock.

“Isobel, stop!” Michael calls out, hands reaching out for her, though she’s too far away, and he stops a fair distance away from Noah.

“Isobel can’t come to the phone right now,” Noah and Isobel say at the same time.

Michael’s breath catches in his chest as he watches his sister’s face go slack, her eyes blankly staring ahead at him.

Noah sits next to her, smirking. “Nice to finally meet you, Michael,” he says pleasantly. “I feel like I already know you, though, from what Isobel’s told me.” He drops a hand onto her thigh and squeezes; it would look like an intimate gesture, were he not in total control of her body at the moment.

Michael grits his teeth and shakes his head. “How are you _ doing _ that?” he asks, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them, his senses _ screaming _ out in Isobel’s direction, begging her to snap out of whatever’s happened to her.

Noah shrugs and stands up. “Easily,” he says. For every step he takes closer to Michael, Michael takes one back, shifting to keep Isobel in view. Noah smirks as he continues, “It’s nothing you wouldn’t be able to do, if you tried hard enough.”

Isobel’s still sitting placidly on the boulder, so Michael shifts his attention to Noah completely. “I wouldn’t, though.”

Noah sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t. You and Isobel,” he says, nose scrunching in distaste. “You only use your powers for the boring things, never anything truly outlandish. You could be as powerful as I am, if you weren’t so afraid of exposing yourselves.”

“Isobel says you’ve killed people,” Michael says, licking his lips. His focus is still on Noah, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind, and an insistent string tugging his attention towards Isobel, that’s getting louder the longer he keeps the other man talking.

Noah shrugs, looking up at the sky and squinting against the early morning light. “Killing makes us stronger.”

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “Who told you that?” The string from his mind to Isobel’s tightens, vibrating with energy from her.

Noah’s gaze swings back down to him as he smiles and says, “I learned it myself, when I killed the alien hunter who was holding me captive.” He lets Michael absorb that for a moment before he continues, “Decided to do a little experimenting when I broke free and killed the rest of his family.” His face turns sour. “Turns out, though, that killing people with alien powers can draw a bit of unwanted attention. How fortuitous for me that I found another alien,” he smirks when Michael balls his hands into fists. “Especially one so willing to open her mind up to me.”

“You used my sister’s body to kill people?” Michael grits out. The taut string between his mind and Isobel’s snaps, and he feels her wake up.

Noah shrugs. “I sure did. And now that you’re here,” he says, holding out his hand and holding Michael in place. “I’ll be able to add another jaeger to my collection.” He steps closer, his other hand outstretched.

Just as his hand hovers over Michael’s temple, Isobel jumps onto Noah’s back from behind, screaming, wrapping her hands around his neck. With Noah distracted, Michael is released and staggers toward them, intent on helping Isobel and getting the both of them the hell away from Noah somehow.

Noah yells and lifts his hands to either side of Isobel’s head behind him. His hands start glowing red, like Michael’s do when he heals someone, and Isobel’s screams of rage turn to screams of pain. Michael pushes himself between them, hands lifting to grip Noah’s wrists, _ squeezing _ until he releases his hold on Isobel. There’s a blast of energy and they are both thrown away from Noah.

Michael’s coughing, choking on dust as he scrambles up, eyes scanning the desert for Isobel. A dozen or so feet away from him, Noah’s advancing on her where she’s prone on the ground, possibly unconscious. “Isobel!” Michael calls out, lifting a hand toward Noah and throwing out a pulse of telekinetic force in his direction.

Noah skids back several feet, but stays upright. He snarls and starts heading for Michael instead. “You’re not the only aliens on this planet,” he yells. “I can find someone else!”

Michael breathes deep and braces himself for impact as Noah throws out another pulse of energy. He yells as he absorbs most of the impact, but he’s knocked off his feet. Noah strides up, standing above him with his hands held out; Michael can feel the energy building behind them. That much force, this close to him, could kill him. His shoulders tense up and he braces himself again, but Isobel comes hurtling at Noah from the side.

Her scream of rage echoes around them as she directs a massive amount of energy in Noah’s direction. He flies through the air and hits the ground rolling, and Isobel doesn’t give him a chance to recover before she’s on top of him. Her hands are on his chest, pressing down with the weight of her telekinetic force. His hands come up to her chest, trying to push her off, but Isobel’s rage is too much. She’s pressing, pressing, _ pressing _ down on him, and then her hands start glowing red.

Michael scrambles up toward them, yelling out Isobel’s name, but she can’t hear him over the sound of hers and Noah’s screams. Isobel’s hands look red hot, and then, she’s the only one screaming.

Michael’s eyes widen as he watches Noah go limp under her, and he rushes forward to pull her off of him. “Isobel!” he yells, wrapping his arms around her. She jerks away from him, and he pulls away, hands raised. “Isobel, it’s me.”

She’s looking at him, wide-eyed, tears streaming down her face. “Michael,” she says, voice rough.

He nods and, eyes not leaving hers, gestures toward Noah. “Is he dead?”

Isobel gasps and lifts her hands from Noah’s chest, looking down at her palms with wide eyes. “I…” She shakes her head and looks up at Michael. “Yes?”

Michael moves slowly, telegraphing his movements as he places his hand on Noah’s neck to search for a pulse. He swallows hard and nods when he can’t find one. “How’d you know you could do that?” he asks her.

“I-I-I-I don’t know,” she says. “I just suddenly knew I could.” She shrugs and looks back up at him, bewildered. Her gaze travels along his arm, following it down to Noah, and she gasps, scrambling off of him. “I...I killed him,” she says, voice shaking. She presses her hands to her mouth and shakes her head.

Michael stands up with her and moves to block her view of Noah’s body. She tears her eyes away from it to look up at Michael, horror evident in them. “You were protecting us,” he says firmly, taking her hands and turning them slowly so her back is to the body. “He was attacking us, and you were protecting us.”

“I _ killed _ him,” Isobel says again, voice rising hysterically.

Michael squeezes her hands and shakes his head. “And he killed a lot of people,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

Isobel swallows and nods, squeezing his hands back. They’re both quiet for a long moment, looking into each others’ eyes and regulating their breathing. Then she says, “What are we gonna do?” He tilts his head in question and she lets out a hysterical laugh. “I mean, it’s not like we can call the _ police _,” she says.

Isobel’s right. There would be too many questions, and an investigation would most certainly lead to people finding out what they are. Michael takes a deep breath and squeezes Isobel’s hands once more before he lets go. He moves past her, arm outstretched.

“What are you doing?” Isobel asks, turning with him.

“What’s it look like?” Michael asks, shifting the desert sands around them. “I’m digging a grave.”

When he’s done with that, there’s still the matter of Noah’s SUV. They can’t leave it out in the desert because someone would come across it eventually, and that might lead to the discovery of Noah’s body. Michael drives it out to Sanders’ and leaves it in the back of the lot, at the very end where almost no one ever goes. He will have to figure out what to do with it eventually, but it should be hidden enough for now. Isobel picks him up at the entrance, and they make their way to the Pony.

It’s early afternoon by the time they pull up; not late enough for the bar to be busy, but not early enough for it to still be closed.

“Fuck,” Isobel breathes out, burying her head in her hands. “I can’t face them right now, Michael. I can’t.” She presses her fingers into her eyes, lets out a shaky breath. “I’m just so...tired, and I’ve missed them, and this has been the day from hell. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t see them and deal with all of their questions right at this very moment, I just…” She shakes her head and curls closer to him as her voice breaks.

Michael wraps an arm around her and nods, shifting to pull his phone out of his pocket. He sees several missed calls and texts from both Maria and Liz, and even one from Kyle. He ignores their messages and just hits the callback for Maria.

She picks up after two rings. “Where are you?” she asks, breathless.

“I’m okay. Sorry for disappearing today. Are you at the bar right now?”

Maria snorts and says, “Where else would I be?”

Michael lets out a slow breath and bites his lip. “I need you to do something for me, no questions asked.”

“What is it?” Maria offers immediately.

“Clear out the back and make sure it stays that way for five minutes.”

Maria’s quiet for a moment before she lets out a slow breath and says, “I’ll text you when it’s done.”

Michael nods and says, “Thanks. And Maria?” She makes a sound and he says, “I promise, I’ll tell you why later.”

Maria snorts. “How much later?”

Michael chuckles and says, “Give me until midnight?”

Maria hums into the phone and says, “I’ll hold you to it, Guerin.”

He hangs up and Isobel squeezes him hard, murmuring, “Thank you,” into the front of his shirt. He just nods, running a hand up and down her back while they wait for Maria’s text. Once they get it, they head inside, rushing past the bar’s back rooms and up the stairs to the living quarters.

They slip into Isobel’s old room, and once there, they both collapse exhausted onto the bed. They kick off their shoes and pants, then shift around again until they’re facing each other, forehead to forehead, arms intertwined under their chins.

Isobel’s eyes are closed, but she murmurs, “Thanks for coming for me, Michael.”

Michael closes his eyes and says, “Always, Is.”

/

Michael’s awakened a few hours later by whispers at the foot of the bed. He opens his eyes, gritty from lack of sleep, and squints down the length of the bed to see Liz and Maria arguing in fierce whispers.

“Tequila,” Liz is saying, brandishing a bottle. “It’s the fastest way to get Is talking.”

Maria rolls her eyes and shoves her own bottle forward. “Whiskey. For Michael, obviously. Between the two of them, who do you think is more likely to crack?”

Michael snorts and closes his eyes again. “Bold of you to assume I’ll crack under any amount of liquor,” he drawls, voice rough with sleep.

He can feel Isobel’s body shaking next to him as she chuckles silently. “Whiskey? I give him five shots, tops.” Her voice is rougher than his, but her amusement shines through. A quick brush against her brain tells him she’s settled, at ease.

He opens his eyes to look into hers. They’re red and tired and watery still, but she’s here with him, safe and ready to deal with their friends. She gives him a quick smile and looks over at Liz and Maria, who are watching them from the foot of the bed. When Isobel scoots over to make room between herself and Michael, Liz flops down between them, throwing her arms around Isobel in a tight squeeze. “Missed you, Is,” she says.

Michael shifts to the edge of the bed so Liz and Isobel can scoot over to make room for Maria on the other side, and the girls surround Isobel, smothering her in hugs and kisses and words of joy to see her home, finally.

“How come you didn’t tell us you were coming home?” Maria asks quietly. “I would have asked Mom to hold off on her retreat.”

Isobel’s entire body freezes. She looks over Liz’s head at Michael, who keeps his face blank. What they tell Liz and Maria is entirely up to her. His gaze shifts to Maria, whose face is creased with worry. Her arms tighten instinctively around Isobel.

Isobel lets out a slow breath. “Noah and I were on our way to Dallas,” she starts slowly, swallowing hard. “For a business trip, I thought…”

She tells them the whole story, no holds barred. When she gets to the part where she hid in the motel’s office while she waited for Michael to come get her, Michael picks up the story.

By the end, Isobel’s face is buried in Maria’s shoulder with Maria holding her and stroking her hair while Liz presses into Isobel’s back, cocooning her in the safety of their arms. Michael’s arm stretches over Liz’s hip and Isobel’s waist to press into the small of Maria’s back, holding them all together. Maria locks eyes with Michael, speaking without words.

They continue to lay in silence after everything’s said and done, comforting each other and settling their nerves. After the mood around them shifts to less grief and more serenity, Isobel clears her throat and says, “So, about that tequila…”

Maria snorts and shakes her head, but she rolls off the bed to grab the bottles of booze while the others sit up and arrange themselves in a loose circle on the floor. “What do you think?” Maria says, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip right from the bottle. “Never Have I Ever, or Truth or Dare?”

After a long, heated debate--during which they all continue sipping from the two liquor bottles--they decide on truth or dare. The dares start out simple, but by eleven they’re so ridiculous and convoluted that most of them opt to take shots instead. By one in the morning, they’re all so shitfaced they’ve resorted to a game Liz jokingly names Sincerity and Sips.

“I think I want to marry him, guys,” she says around two, after she’s taken a large drink of the second bottle of tequila they’ve brought up from the bar. “Like, ‘til death do us part, claiming each other on our taxes, possibly making a baby with him many many years from now, _ marry _ him.”

Isobel snorts and snags the bottle from Liz’s light grip. “Kyle Valenti?” She takes a long drink, wincing as she swallows. “Really?”

Maria rolls her eyes and takes a sip of the whiskey. “He’s actually a pretty cool guy? You’d probably really like him, actually. He’s always willing to help out at the Pony when I’m short-staffed, and he took the alien thing pretty well.” She shrugs and passes the bottle over to Michael.

Isobel’s face sharpens and she shakes her head. “How does he even _ know _ about us anyway? Like, why did you think it would be okay to tell him _ our _ secret?” she asks, glaring over at Liz.

Liz freezes in place, jaw dropping open in surprise, and Michael narrows his eyes on Isobel; that was harsh of her, not to mention… “Who says Liz is the one who told?” he asks, nudging Isobel so her narrowed gaze swings away from Liz and over to him. 

Isobel rolls her eyes and says, “What, like _ you _ told him? Yeah, right.”

Michael watches her steadily as he takes a quick sip and shrugs. “I cut my hand and Kyle stitched it up. Seemed to figure it out based on how adamant these two were that he not drive me to the hospital. No one _ told _ him outright.”

Isobel tilts her head. “But why would it be on them to try to throw him off the scent?” Her eyes narrow on him and she leans closer, “Unless you were hurt more than just a cut?”

Michael takes another, longer drink to avoid answering the question, and Liz jumps in, her excuse flimsy at best. Still, after a minute, Isobel allows him not to answer, shifting her focus to Maria, her face softening as Maria begins her turn at a sip of tequila and a confession. Liz throws her leg out and brushes her foot against Michael’s thigh. He doesn’t look at her, but he drops his hand to her foot and squeezes it in thanks.

Around three, when Isobel’s passed out, head in Maria’s lap while Maria runs her fingers through her hair, Michael bids them goodnight and heads down to the Airstream. He’s not surprised when, less than a minute after he’s bundled up under his comforter, the door opens. His eyes are closed, but he hears Liz grumbling as she struggles to strip off her jeans in the small space next to his bed. His eyes fly open when she drops onto the bed next to him, clipping his side as she does so.

“Sorry,” she whispers, elbow knocking into his side as she lays down. 

He rolls his eyes and scoots closer to the wall, lifting his blanket so she can join him under it. She draws it over herself, scooting closer to him to throw her arm across his middle and lay her head on his shoulder. He shifts to wrap his arm around her back and press a kiss to her hair.

They’re quiet for a long time before Liz whispers, “How come you didn’t tell Is about Alex?”

Michael breathes deep, then lets it out slowly. He does this several times before he closes his eyes and says, “I loved him. I...I thought he was my soulmate.”

Liz’s arm tightens across his middle, but she doesn’t say anything.

He opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. “For a long time. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding onto this hope that we’d find our way back to each other, or something, because it just felt...cosmic with him, you know?” He licks his lips and shrugs. “And I guess by not telling Isobel about him, I was keeping myself safe. From her pity, from her worry.”

Liz hums and whispers, “I thought you might have loved him, but what made you think he was your soulmate?”

Michael closes his eyes again and sighs. “I felt like I knew him, from the moment we met. He was familiar and comfortable and safe, when I was raised to see humans as risks, dangers. I-I-I don’t know how to explain how I felt around him. It’s like my entropy changed or something. Everything in me went quiet.” He snorts a soft laugh. “Not even you guys can make me feel the way he did, so I thought for sure he was the only one who could.”

“No one you’ve dated since has given you that feeling?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Nah. So when I found out he--he was dead, and I obviously wasn’t…” He has to clear his throat to continue. “It was like learning my secret hope was wrong all these years, and I didn’t want to put that on Isobel. She’s got enough to deal with right now.”

Liz hums again and gives him another squeeze. “I’m sorry, Mikey.” She’s quiet for a long moment before she whispers conspiratorially, “Does this mean it’s too soon to set you up with one of Kyle’s friends from work? Because there’s this surgeon named Bryce...”

Michael snorts a laugh and squeezes her back, but doesn’t answer. It’s been more than a year, but he feels like he lost something when Alex died, and he’s not quite ready to move on yet.

/

He’s elbow-deep in the front of Maria’s truck when the cell phone in his back pocket starts going wild. It buzzes long enough for him to realize it’s a phone call, not a text, which must mean it’s important. It’s been a week since he brought Isobel back, and it’s been a scramble to figure out what they’re going to do about Noah’s car, among other things.

By the time he pulls his arms out, his phone has stopped buzzing. He huffs when it immediately starts up again and starts looking around for a rag on which to wipe his hands. Before he can find one, a shiver goes down his spine and his breath catches in his throat. He freezes, heart beating wildly in his chest, and turns slowly around.

He hasn’t seen Alex since prom night, when they made love for the first time in the shed behind the Manes house. It was supposed to be Alex’s safe haven, for when things with his dad got really bad, but it had ended up turning into a dangerous and painful place for the both of them.

He’d hoped for nine years he would see Alex again someday, and lived with the fact he never would for the past one; now, he’s staring at a ghost.

Here Alex is, standing in front of him. Michael’s certain he’s hallucinating until he comes to the realization that he would never have imagined Alex wearing _ that _ particular combination of jeans, plaid button-down shirt, and a gun in a holster on his hip. Not to mention the crutch he’s leaning on. Though now that he thinks about it, maybe he has imagined Alex leaning on a crutch, the bottom half of his right leg missing, replaced with a sleek silver prosthetic…

Alex clears his throat and Michael’s attention snaps back up to his eyes. “Alex,” he breathes out, swallowing hard. There’s still a large part of him that’s sure this isn’t real. “You’re dead.” It’s a flat statement, because it’s been running through his mind for a year, and he’s still getting used to thinking it.

Alex’s lips twist and he shakes his head, then inclines it to the back door of the Pony. “I just heard about that, from Liz and Maria. But as you can see,” he says, gesturing down at himself. “Greatly exaggerated, and all that.”

Michael doesn’t say anything; what is there to say? Alex was dead, but now he’s not. Michael’s greatest wish is standing right in front of him, but he’s afraid he’s not real.

To give his brain a minute to readjust, he nods and continues staring, cataloguing the differences between the boy he knew and the man before him now. There’s a new scar on Alex’s forehead, and the lightest hint of stubble on his face. There are no visible piercings anymore, and Alex’s eyes are free of liner. Besides the obvious physical differences, there’s also the way he stands. There’s confidence in his stance and the way he holds his shoulders that Michael doesn’t remember from before. Again, he’s struck with the idea that this has to be real, because there’s no way his brain could come up with this perfect being on its own.

When Alex clears his throat again, Michael’s wandering eyes meet his and he finally has enough brainpower to say roughly, “You came back.” He barely manages to stop himself before he adds, “to me,” at the end of the statement.

Alex winces and Michael is immediately put on edge; evidently he really isn’t back for Michael. “Well actually,” Alex says. “I’m here on business.” He shifts to pull something from his back pocket, and then he’s flashing a badge in Michael’s face. “I’m here looking for a man named Noah Bracken, and according to my sources, your sister is his girlfriend.”

The moment he sees the FBI badge, Michael’s entire body sags and his mind goes blank. Ten years apart, one of which he thought Alex was dead. About thirty seconds of pure relief and exhilaration, thinking he might _ actually _ be back in Roswell for Michael. And now this. “FBI,” he murmurs under his breath, eyes caught on the badge, then flicking to the gun holstered at Alex’s hip.

“Guerin?” he hears Alex say.

Michael swallows hard and presses his lips together as his gaze snaps back to Alex’s. “What?”

Alex tilts his head, brow furrowed in concern. “Have you seen your sister or her boyfriend recently?” he asks, tone slow as if this is not the first time he’s asked.

Michael opens his mouth to respond, but from the doorway into the back rooms of the Pony Isobel says, “Yes, he’s seen me as recently as this morning.” She steps forward, hand outstretched, a friendly smile on her face. “I’m Isobel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Alex flashes her a smile and reaches out to shake her hand. “And you as well. I used to hear all about you from Michael and the girls.”

Isobel laughs lightly and shakes her head. “All old news,” she says, waving it off. “I’d heard you haven’t talked to Michael at all since you left him after his accident. A lot’s changed since then.”

The mention of ‘the accident’ shakes something loose in Michael’s brain, and he snaps back to reality. “Isobel!” he barks out, left hand clenching at his side. All of a sudden it aches more than it has in years. He has to work hard not to look over at Alex.

Isobel tilts her head at him, brows furrowed. “What, Michael? I thought we were catching up with your old friend?” Her eyes are sharp, icy. A shiver goes down Michael’s spine and he narrows his eyes at her, wondering where this casual cruelty is coming from.

Alex clears his throat and Michael’s attention snaps back to him, heart thundering in his chest. Alex smiles tightly, not meeting his eyes, and shakes his head. “Actually, I--I’m not here to catch up. I’m here looking for Noah Bracken. Have you seen him recently?”

Michael’s chest starts to constrict and he sucks in a breath, looking over at Isobel. When they’d discussed what might happen if they were tracked down by someone looking into Noah or the murders he’d apparently committed using Isobel’s body, he hadn’t anticipated that someone being Alex. He hadn’t ever expected to see Alex again, obviously, and now that he’s standing here in front of him… 

That last night with Alex, Michael had been minutes from spilling all to him, not wanting to keep any secrets from the person he was sure was his soulmate. Now that he’s lost him forever and by some miracle had him returned, he doesn’t know if he can flat out lie to Alex about anything ever again.

Isobel doesn’t have that problem. She bats her lashes at Alex and says, “Oh, it’s been a long while since I’ve seen Noah. We broke up, you see,” she explains, shaking her head sadly. “Well, I broke up with him when he--” Her eyes fill with tears and her voice shakes, “When he hit me.” She buries her face in her hands and starts sobbing into them.

Michael stares at her, momentarily stunned by her acting abilities. His gaze whips over to Alex when he shifts from one foot to the other next to him. He doesn’t seem to be affected by Isobel’s theatrics. “You call a week ‘a long while’?” he asks, tone on the edge of disbelieving. His gaze flicks from Isobel to Michael and back and he says, “The manager at a motel just outside of Amarillo identified Mr. Bracken and you checking in together just last week.”

Isobel’s fake tears slow as she looks up at him. “I hadn’t realized it’s only been a week,” she says, voice shaky. “Being home, with my family again, it just feels like so much longer.”

Alex nods, eyes narrowed on her. “And you haven’t seen him since?”

Isobel shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “No, I haven’t.”

Alex’s gaze shifts to Michael, whose chest seizes up again, then he looks back at Isobel. “Do you know where he was headed, after Amarillo?”

“We were on our way to Dallas,” she tells him. “Maybe he continued on by himself?”

Michael internally curses her, momentarily distracted from agonizing over what he’s going to tell Alex by his sister’s improvisation. This had not been the story they’d agreed on when they’d been coming up with a plan to distance themselves from Noah and his apparent string of murders.

Alex nods again and reaches into his back pocket. “One more thing,” he says, unfolding a photograph and lifting it for her to see. “Do you recognize this woman?”

Michael shifts closer and sucks in a breath. The woman is obviously dead, though there’s no obvious cause of death in the picture, except a glowing handprint on her chest. “Who is she?” he asks, voice low.

Alex lets out a slow breath, his eyes flicking over to Michael and back to Isobel, who’s reaching out to run a gentle fingertip over the woman’s face. “Her name is Carla, last name unknown. She’s an undocumented immigrant who was found dead outside a bar in Amarillo last week.”

Isobel slowly pulls her hand back, gaze locked on the body in the photograph as she says, “You think Noah…”

Alex folds up the photograph and puts it back in his pocket, eyes never leaving Isobel’s face. “I have reason to believe she wasn’t his first victim. Are you sure you don’t know where he is?” he asks, ducking down to catch Isobel’s eyes, which had drifted to the ground.

Isobel smiles and shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. All I know is he really wanted to go to Dallas, for a conference.”

Michael barely resists the urge to kick her shin; she’s deviating from the story and embellishing her lies too much. His arms come up to wrap around his stomach as Alex meets his eyes again. _ Shit _. He lets out a slow breath and shrugs, eyes locked on Alex’s. “He’s dead in a ditch, for all I know,” is what he settles on saying.

Alex is quiet a long time, eyes searching Michael’s face, and then he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly. He lets out a long breath and smiles. “Still, I think I’m going to stick around here a while, do some more research before heading out to follow up on more leads.” He looks between the both of them again, pulls out a card and holds it out to Michael. “Give me a call if you guys can think of anything else, okay?”

Isobel reaches out to take the card, then pulls Alex into a hug. “Of course. Always happy to help an old friend of my brother’s.”

Alex meets his eyes over Isobel’s shoulder, face carefully blank. Michael swallows hard and leans back on Maria’s truck, giving him a nod when Isobel pulls away. If he so much as touches Alex again, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to let him go. “Glad you’re not dead,” he manages for his goodbye, voice rough.

Alex’s lips twist and he shrugs. “As always, you’re amazing with words, Guerin.”

Michael huffs out a laugh, tears springing to his eyes as he watches Alex walk away. “Fuck,” he says under his breath, eyes following Alex until he turns the corner around to the front of the Pony again. He inhales slowly, chest aching to follow him because he hadn’t had the option before. Instead, he turns to look at Isobel.

Her head is tilted, eyes studying him curiously. He fidgets under her gaze, praying she doesn’t pull him into a mindscape right now, because he doesn’t have the strength to continue downplaying Alex’s effect on him in there.

“What?” he says, leaning a little away from her.

She narrows her eyes and, voice low, says, “He’s onto me, Michael. This is not good.”

Michael shakes his head, baffled. “He’s onto _ you _ ? No, he’s onto _ Noah _, and we had a plan for how to deal with whoever came looking for him. By the way, what happened to the story we came up with?” he growls, voice low, eyes roaming around to make sure they’re still alone.

Isobel’s brow furrows and she bites her lip. “I...I don’t know, I just…” She shrugs. “It just didn’t...feel right, so I improvised.”

Michael pushes off from Maria’s truck and heads for the back door to the Pony. There’s too much happening right now, with covering up Noah’s murder, Alex returning from the dead, and him being the FBI agent looking for Noah. There are too many variables, too many things that can go wrong. They definitely don’t need a wild card thrown into the mix. “Well, next time, don’t!” he yells back at Isobel.

/

Maria closes the bar early and the four of them spend an hour talking over their options and drinking at one of the booths. They rework the original story to work with what Isobel’s already told Alex.

“Though I don’t know why it’s such a big deal,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I could just sneak into his mind tonight while he’s sleeping, nudge him to follow the Dallas angle. Once he’s there, it’s not like he’ll find anything. It will be another dead end, and with the murders stopping, it’s not like he’ll have any reason to come back here and look into our story further.”

Michael, who had stopped breathing when she’d mentioned sneaking into Alex’s brain, squeezes his glass tightly and shakes his head. “No. It’s too risky. We can’t leave any more alien traces than we already have. We have to lay low, and influencing his mind to follow a murder lead to Dallas is not laying low.”

“I agree,” Liz says, nodding. She doesn’t look at Michael, but her foot nudges his under the table. “It’s one thing to influence a bunch of idiot teenagers into liking you, but this is a whole different ball game. He’s trained ex-military, an _ FBI agent _. He might be able to tell when his mind has been messed with, and that’s a complication we don’t need to be dealing with right now.”

Isobel’s eyes narrow on Liz, then flicker back over to Michael. She opens her mouth, and from the icy look in her eyes, it’s not to say something nice; Michael has to suppress a shudder. Before she can say anything, Maria pipes up, “Okay, so what’s the plan? How do we deal with…” She exhales slowly and shakes her head. “I can’t believe he’s alive and I’m saying this, but what are we going to do to...get Alex to leave again?”

Michael winces and drops his gaze to his lap. His right hand lifts to start massaging his aching chest. As much as he wants Alex to stay with him forever, it’s just not possible. Not when they’re covering up the murder of an alien serial killer. Not when Michael’s an alien and Alex is FBI. It just...wouldn’t work.

“You’re gonna have to lie to him, a lot better than you did today,” Isobel says, turning to him. “Dead in a ditch, for all you know?” she parrots, rolling her eyes.

Michael squirms under their gazes, biting his lip and shrugging. “I was thrown off, okay? I wasn’t expecting…” He lets out a long breath. “I didn’t know it would be _ him _.” He looks down at the table, then back up at them. Isobel looks incredulous, Maria looks bemused, and Liz’s head is tilted to the side as she studies him, lips pursed.

Michael presses his lips together and holds his breath, letting the others come up with a plan. Liz’s foot bumps into his again. He meets her eyes and she raises a brow; he shrugs. They look at each other a long time before she sighs, narrowing her eyes on him as she nods determinedly. Michael raises a brow, wondering what she means with that, but he has to tune back into the conversation with Isobel and Maria.

It’s late by the time he falls into his bed, but he’s up for hours longer, replaying every moment with Alex, starting with when he first saw him with Liz at the Crashdown and ending with him disappearing around the side of the Pony today. “He’s alive,” he whispers to the ceiling over and over again. And if he’s alive, there’s still a chance he’s actually Michael’s soulmate.

The two facts have been chasing each other around Michael’s head all afternoon. Michael smothers himself with a pillow as he curses the universe, though, because it’s possible it doesn’t even matter anymore. Even if Alex is his soulmate, there’s no way they could be together, right? Alex is an FBI agent, on the trail of Isobel’s dead alien ex, and historically speaking, special agents and aliens don’t really mix well.

/

He wakes up the next morning to the insistent buzzing of his cellphone on the pillow next to his head. “ ‘lo,” he answers without looking.

“Good, you’re awake,” Liz chirps. “Breakfast at the Crashdown in thirty?”

Michael groans and pulls the phone away from his ear to check the time. He’d been up past three thinking about Alex, wondering if it was even worth it to find out if he was his soulmate, or if he should just let him go once and for all. Then he’d been plagued with more nightmares of prom night, deafening explosions, and the fight with Noah. He hadn’t really slept all that well, but it’s nine, and Liz wants to have breakfast so, “I’ll be there in thirty,” he manages to grunt out, hanging up and dropping his phone back onto his bed before he can hear her response. He stares up at the ceiling--a common past time lately--before he groans and rolls out of bed to take a shower and get ready to meet Liz for breakfast.

When he gets to the Crashdown, he has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming again, because it’s like stepping into the past. There, across the restaurant in their regular booth, is Liz, smiling and laughing as she sits across from Alex. He groans and rubs his hand over his eyes. He should have known.

He walks toward them in a bit of a daze, eyes fixed on the back of Alex’s head until Alex turns around, giving him a small smile. “Hey again, Guerin.”

Michael nods hello and slides into the booth next to Liz, elbowing her hard in the side as he does so. She merely kicks his shin and smiles over at Alex again. “Alex was just about to tell me why everyone thought he was dead,” she says.

Alex’s eyebrows raise and he shakes his head. “Oh, I was?” Liz nods and he rolls his eyes, letting out a huff of laughter before he shrugs. “I _ was _ in the explosion from the article you showed me,” he says. “But I survived. Of course, not all of me made it out,” he says ruefully, leaning down to knock on his prosthetic.

Michael sucks in a quick breath at the reminder; he’d almost forgotten. But also, it felt like he’d always known, so the reminder was unnecessary. _ Weird _. He shakes his head and says, “And now you’re an agent.” Liz kicks him again for his comment and sends him a withering look, but he doesn’t have the energy for subterfuge, or to ignore what brought Alex back to Roswell in the first place. Best to keep that fact at the front of his mind.

Despite agonizing over it all night--despite knowing the most logical choice would be to let Alex go--Michael is still unsure what he’s going to do about his feelings for Alex. Though, he muses, looking over at the man in question, maybe it’s all a moot point. Relationships--love--go both ways. Maybe Alex has moved on in the last ten years and could care less about Michael’s feelings for him. Maybe he doesn’t matter to him anymore.

Alex meets Michael’s eyes steadily as he nods. “Yeah, I am. They recruited me after my medical discharge, and I’m uniquely qualified for the job.”

“Uniquely qualified to hunt down serial killers?” No, that didn’t make sense, if he had just been an Airman. But if he’d been an Airman who’d gone into the family business… Michael presses his lips together as he holds his breath. That’s also a factor he should have considered further.

Alex shrugs and says, “I can’t really talk about it, considering your sister is involved in the investigation.”

“Then why are you here?” Michael blurts, eyebrows drawn together. He doesn’t want to be on such unsteady ground anymore, he just wants to know: Why Alex? Is it some kind of cosmic intervention? Or is it a horrible coincidence?

“I invited him for breakfast,” Liz jumps in to say. “To catch up with an old friend.”

Michael turns to glare at her again. She knows what a risk it is to let in an FBI agent when one, he and Isobel are aliens who two, killed an alien serial killer a week ago. She meets his glare steadily, her eyes widening just slightly as she tilts her head in Alex’s direction.

_ Fuck _. He knows that look. He sighs and looks over at Alex, who is watching the two of them speculatively, smiling a little.

“That hasn’t changed, at least,” Alex says. When Michael and Liz make twin questioning hums, Alex laughs. “You two can still have entire conversations without saying a word,” he explains.

Liz spends the rest of breakfast grilling Alex on what he’s been doing over the last ten years while he does the same to her. They both try to draw Michael into the conversation, Liz by mentioning his accomplishments over the years and Alex by asking him questions about their time apart, but he mostly just sits and listens while the two of them talk and catch up. His gaze rarely strays from Alex, continuing to catalogue all of the changes in him from the last decade.

There’s a new wariness about him. The way his eyes constantly travel around the room, eyeing the other patrons as well as every door. He also doesn’t laugh as easily as he used to, even with Liz’s charm dialled up to eleven. He’s more reserved, and it kills Michael that he doesn’t know just what events caused Alex to change so much. It kills him that he wasn’t able to be there for Alex as he went through...everything he went through these last ten years. It kills him that he’s agonizing over this, and Alex might not have ever given _ him _ a second thought.

He considers all of this and he still doesn’t know which option is worse: Alex is his soulmate, but he’s going to have to drive him away to protect himself and Isobel, or Alex isn’t his soulmate and he’ll be broken hearted again.

Breakfast wraps up and Liz says she has to get going, leaving them alone together under a flimsy pretense. She winks at Michael on her way out the door and he flips her off. He looks back at Alex and they stare at each other for a long time before Michael finally says, “You left without saying goodbye.” His eyes widen; he hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to drudge up the past. It wasn’t part of their plan to get the FBI--to get Alex--off of their backs. But it’s been on his mind a lot the last ten years.

Alex nods and says, “I did.”

Michael waits. Now that it’s out there, he wants an explanation. They’re quiet for a long time before Alex raises a brow, and Michael realizes he’s not going to explain himself. Michael huffs out an incredulous laugh and throws his hands up. “Okay,” he says, scooting out of the booth and heading for the door, fighting the urge to look back.

He hears the clack of Alex’s crutch hitting the cement as he follows behind him on the way to the Pony. Michael stops at the next corner and closes his eyes, head tilting up to catch the sun. Why, after everything, did it have to be _ Alex _?

When he opens his eyes again, Alex is standing next to him, staring across the street as they wait for the signal to let them cross. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, tilting his head Michael’s direction, but not meeting his eyes. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”

Michael snorts and shakes his head, looking away from him. “Maybe that was a good excuse at the time, but you weren’t under his thumb forever. You didn’t have to…” A hysterical laugh bubbles up as he says, “You didn’t have to ghost me for a decade.”

He sees Alex nod in the corner of his eye, and they cross the street together. Michael keeps his stride short so Alex can keep pace with him, if he wants. They walk next to each other in silence for another block before Alex takes a deep breath and says, “You didn’t ask about the handprint.”

Michael stops and turns to him, brow furrowed. “What?”

Alex stops and sighs, pulling Michael out of the flow of foot traffic against a building to say, “Yesterday, when I showed you the picture of Carla. You didn’t ask about the handprint, you asked who she was.”

Michael rolls his eyes and throws his hands up. “And?”

Alex’s eyes roam his face for a long time before he says, “People who don’t already know what the hell the handprint is ask about that first, rather than the identity of the victim.”

Michael’s heart stops. _ Fuck _.

Alex continues, “Isobel didn’t ask about it either.”

Michael presses his lips together, hard, before shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns on his heel and starts walking again, heart thundering in his chest. _ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ . Looks like ‘unique qualifications’ _ was _ code for ‘joined the family business.’ Michael’s stomach churns. Alex is an alien hunter, and Michael is an alien. Michael’s been in love with Alex for a decade, and Alex might be his soulmate. This situation is all sorts of fucked up.

He hears the clack of Alex’s crutch again but doesn’t slow down to allow him to catch up. It doesn’t matter; Alex easily catches up with him and keeps pace. “Where’s Noah, Guerin?”

Michael shakes his head and keeps walking. He can feel Alex’s stare boring into the side of his head as they make their way around the Pony. His chest hurts, and he doesn’t think he can handle this conversation anymore. He’s too scared to look at Alex, afraid he’ll see disgust or contempt. Afraid he’ll see Jesse Manes when he looks at Alex. He sucks in a breath and holds it as he rushes up to the Airstream.

“Michael!”

He pauses, his hand on the door, and turns around. “What do you _ want _, Alex?” His voice is high, panicked. His hands are shaking, but he manages to meet Alex’s gaze.

Alex’s stance squares and he says, “Where’s Noah Bracken?”

Michael shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and gripping them hard to stop the shaking.

Alex sighs. “Are you hiding him?” At Michael’s incredulous snort and eyeroll he asks, “Did you kill him?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Michael snaps, taking a step closer to Alex. All of a sudden he’s not scared anymore so much as pissed off. Pissed at Alex, for reappearing after letting Michael think he was dead for a year. Pissed at himself for daring to hope they might actually be able to finally be together. Pissed at the circumstances in which they find themselves finally together again, but conflict surrounds them, leading them in different directions.

“I’m serious, Guerin. Witnesses saw him at the same gas station you stopped at in Clovis.”

Michael’s breath catches in his throat, some of the building anger dissipating. The SUV that nearly clipped them. “He must have followed us from the hotel,” he murmurs to himself. He licks his lips and shrugs, his mood levelling out more as he looks over at Alex. “He was abusing Isobel, scaring her. That’s why I picked her up in Amarillo. I didn’t even see him there.”

Alex nods and continues. “Someone was killed at that gas station, and you were the last person to see them, according to the security recordings.” Michael closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as Alex says, “There was a handprint left behind on that body too.”

Michael’s eyes snap open and he sees Alex watching him carefully.

“Do you know anything about that?” Alex asks him.

Michael swallows and shifts slightly away from Alex. “What are you insinuating?” He knows what he’s insinuating, but he wants him to say it. Maybe if Alex says it, if Alex admits he knows about aliens and he’s hunting them down now...Maybe then it will be easier to let him go.

“I think you know what I’m insinuating, Guerin,” Alex says, throwing his arms out.

Michael pinches his own arms, biting his lip to keep himself from confessing all to Alex. He breathes deep, letting his breaths out slowly until he’s more in control again, and shakes his head, refusing to respond to what Alex has implied.

Alex finally sighs and says, “I know you’re not a killer, Guerin, and despite the fact that I’d never met Isobel before yesterday, I don’t think she is either. I think she was caught up with someone who was truly _ evil _, and my only goal here is to try to bring him to justice.” He licks his lips and shakes his head, turning away and calling back, “You know how to find me, when you figure out what you want to do.”

/

The thing is, he _ knows _ what he wants to do. Days later, he’s still mulling over his-- _ their _ options, and he keeps coming to the same conclusion. More than anything, he wants to go to Alex and confess all; it’s not like he and Isobel did anything _ wrong _. Noah was the killer, and they were defending themselves from him. Maybe if he lays it all out there, explains why they did what they did, including confessing to Alex that they’re aliens… Maybe it will all turn out alright.

Michael’s in the garage at Sanders’, working but mostly trying to convince himself that telling Alex is their best option.

“No,” Isobel says from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts.

He turns toward her automatically, and his hand gets caught on part of the engine as he turns. “Fuck,” he says, looking down at the gash, reaching for the closest, cleanest towel he can find to put pressure on it. He looks back up at Isobel once he does so. “You scared the shit out of me, Is.” She looks unrepentant, hands placed on her hips, standing in her firm ‘Obey Me’ stance. “What did you say?” he asks, wincing when he clenches his hand a little.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, stepping forward to take his hand in hers. “I said, no, you can’t tell Alex anything, about what happened with Noah, or about what we are.” She unwraps his hand to inspect the wound, poking at it painfully as it wells with blood again.

Michael winces and starts to pull away, but Isobel keeps a firm grip on his hand as she continues to inspect it. “How’d you kn--” His expression clears, then turns angry as he yanks his hand away from hers. “You read me? Without my permission? Without me _ knowing _ ?” _ How was that possible? _

Isobel rolls her eyes and holds her hand out for his impatiently. “I knew you were struggling with this, and I wanted to know why.”

“So you _ ask _. You don’t just jump into my brain and yank the answers out without my permission, Is. It’s like--” He suddenly realizes they’re in the middle of Sanders’ garage, and while no one has been around all day, it’s not exactly the most private location. He growls and grabs Isobel’s arm, pulling her toward the back office. Once they’re in, door safely closed behind them, he turns back to her and lets out a slow breath. “Not invading each others’ privacy has been our rule since we were kids.”

Isobel shrugs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, you weren’t talking, so I took it upon myself to figure out what was wrong. And it was a good thing I did, because you were actually considering telling an _ FBI agent _ that we’re aliens.”

Michael shakes his head and throws his arms out. “He’s not just an FBI agent, Is! He’s Alex!”

“Please,” Isobel drawls out. “One fuck ten years ago isn’t going to make him less likely to turn you in when he finds out you’re an alien, Michael.”

“He’s not just some fuck!” he blurts out, then freezes. He can’t believe he actually said that. Isobel’s eyes widen as he tries to backtrack. “I mean, we were friends first! And he’s friends with Liz and Maria!”

Isobel clenches her jaw and steps forward, pointing a finger at him. “No, that’s not what you were going to say.” He shakes his head, pressing his lips together, and she raises her eyebrows. “Say it. Or do I have to go looking for the answers again?”

Michael takes a step away from her, sucking in a breath. “Jesus, Is. What’s wrong with you?”

She jolts, eyes widening as she tilts her head, considering what she just said. “I…” Her eyebrows furrow. She clenches her fists and sighs loudly. “I’m just sick of all the secrets and lies,” she explains, voice hard, demanding.

Michael shakes his head. “Yeah, well, this--” he says, gesturing between the two of them, “doesn’t work if we don’t trust each other to be honest about the things that really matter. And my history with Alex is none of your business.”

They stare at each other for a long time, squared off in the small office. Michael feels uneasy the longer he looks at Isobel. Her eyes are just...mean, and she looks utterly unrepentant about violating his privacy and threatening to do it again. A shiver goes down his spine, and he finally clears his throat to say, “You should go. We can talk about this later, but right now I’m busy.”

Isobel presses her lips together so hard they turn white, but she nods once and stalks past him out of the office. Michael lowers himself to sit on the edge of the desk and lets out a long breath, lifting his hand to rub his eyes. He hisses out a breath when he’s reminded of the cut on his palm, and distracts himself from his fight with Isobel by searching for the first aid kit.

/

When he exits the office, hand bandaged and completely ready to be done with the day, he notices Isobel’s car is still parked in the lot out front, along with a dark SUV with government plates that wasn’t there when he’d entered the office. He looks around, but there’s no one to be seen. He looks at the sky and lets out a long breath. “Fuck,” he says, and he concentrates on Isobel to see if he can sense where she is.

The rage he feels from her takes his breath away, but he doesn’t have time to analyze it because he hears a shout coming from the back of the lot, and he takes off running for it.

He rounds a tall pile of spare parts and skids to a stop, breath caught in the middle of his chest when he sees Isobel, holding Alex by the throat against the side of Noah’s SUV. Alex’s legs are shaking, his feet dangling inches above the ground; he’s held up entirely by Isobel’s hand on his neck. His face is red, his hand scrambling at Isobel’s arm, but her grip on him is steady.

“Isobel!” Michael yells, hand held out toward her as he runs closer. “Isobel, stop!”

She doesn’t budge except to turn her head toward him, voice soft as she says, “He can’t be trusted.”

Michael’s eyes widen, because that look in her eyes? That dead-flat voice? That’s not his sister. But it’s his sister’s body, and he doesn’t know how to save Alex without hurting her.

Alex doesn’t have the same attachment to Isobel, though, so he has no problem swinging his arm up to stab a syringe into her neck, wasting no time injecting Isobel with a pale yellow liquid. Isobel’s eyes roll back in her head and she drops to the ground instantly, and Alex falls to the ground next to her, coughing and wheezing as he takes deep breaths and rubs at his sore neck.

Michael drops to the ground between them, pulling Isobel into his lap and placing his fingers on her pulse even as he turns to Alex, eyes roving over him to assess if he’s alright.

“It’s a mild power suppressant,” Alex rasps, wincing as he presses lightly on his throat. “It’ll keep her down for an hour, minimum, but we need to figure out what we’re going to do pretty quickly.”

Michael just stares, brain uncomprehending. “What?” he finally says, pulling Isobel further into his lap and wrapping his arms around her.

Alex takes another deep breath and leans forward to adjust his prosthetic, which appears to have twisted oddly when Alex hit the ground. Once that’s taken care of, he meets Michael’s gaze steadily and says, “Your sister attack your exes often, or am I just special?”

Michael starts shaking his head before Alex finishes the question. “No, not ever. I don’t--That was…” He lets out a shaky breath and hugs Isobel closer to him. “I don’t even know who that was, just now, but it wasn’t Isobel.”

Alex’s lips quirk and he nods. “I figured. No, _ that _ was Noah Bracken.” Michael’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, but no words come out. Alex continues, “It’s his M.O. He takes over a body, uses it to lure in his victim, and then kills them. But he has to be somewhere nearby, so I know I’m closing in on him.”

“But.” Michael shakes his head. “Noah’s dead.”

The fierce, triumphant look on Alex’s face falls and he looks down at Isobel’s unconscious form. “Oh. Well, that complicates things.”

/

They bring Isobel back to the Pony, where Michael uses special, alien-proof cuffs provided by Alex to strap Isobel to a chair in the middle of the living room. Then, Alex surrounds her with a circle of yellow pollen, apparently one of the few substances on Earth that can suppress aliens’ powers; Michael gets nauseous standing a foot away from the line.

Isobel’s still passed out cold, and could be for a while longer, so he has time to pull Alex down the hallway and, now that he’s had a little time to process, say, “What the fuck is going on, Alex?”

Alex clears his throat, wincing at the burn; ugly bruises are already starting to spread around his neck. “I told you, I’m here on the trail of a serial killer, your sister’s boyfriend Noah. I just failed to mention the fact that I know he’s an alien.”

Michael shakes his head and looks away, chest aching. He sucks in a deep breath and laughs bitterly. “What, so you’re actually Agent Mulder, tracking down and capturing aliens for the FBI?”

Alex tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow, considering. “Actually, I’d classify myself as more of a Scully, I think.”

Michael glares at him and says, “This isn’t a joke, Alex! I’ve lived my entire life under the radar, praying not to be noticed, and now you’re _ finally _ here, and you’re part of one of the biggest threats my people face!” He sighs heavily and rubs his hands down his face, murmuring, “The only thing worse would be if you’d gone into the family business.”

Alex recoils, disgust written all over his face. “You actually think I’d do that? Follow in my father’s footsteps after--” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, eyes flickering over to Michael’s hand. “I know this isn’t a joke, Guerin. I came here to help you.”

Michael’s heart is thundering in his chest. He studies Alex for a long time, wondering if the overwhelming urge he feels to believe Alex stems from his feelings for him, or because he knows Alex can be trusted. Then again, those feelings aren’t entirely separate, are they?

“You came here to help _ me _?” he asks, searching Alex’s eyes.

Alex starts to flush, and he looks away. “I came to stop a killer.” He takes a deep breath and looks back, locking eyes with Michael. “Meeting you again was just a bonus.”

Michael lets out a shaky breath, shifting closer. “I missed you,” he says. God, he hopes he’s not making a mistake, opening himself up again like this.

Alex’s eyebrows come together and he looks pained. “I missed you, too,” he whispers, not looking away.

Michael swallows and lets out a slow breath, then says quietly, “Have you ever heard about my people and soulmates?” Please let his instincts be right.

Alex bites his lip and nods, eyes not leaving Michael’s.

Michael clears his throat, suddenly feeling parched. “I think I dreamt about mine once, and when I met you…” He sighs, hands clenching as he grasps for a way to explain it. “Do you remember how I thought we’d met before?”

Alex nods again and says, “I said the same about you.”

Michael’s heart skips a beat; he’d forgotten about that. He breathes deep again; now that he’s choosing to trust Alex, to place his faith in him, it only seems right for him to lay the rest of it out on the table. He says, “I’ve loved you, for a long time. When we met, it was like we just connected, like something cosmic. I don’t know how else to explain it, but--” He trails off, licks his lips and shrugs.

Alex lets out a whoosh of air and says, “Why are you telling me this, Guerin?”

Because he has to open himself up at some point. Because there’s no one else he’s ever trusted the way he trusts Alex, despite all the reasons not to. “Because if anyone’s gonna destroy me,” he blurts, shrugging and shaking his head. “Might as well be you.”

Alex lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head even as he leans in, pressing his forehead to Michael’s. “Would never let that happen,” he murmurs quietly, the tip of his nose brushing the tip of Michael’s.

Michael nods, eyes shut tight as he breathes Alex in. He lifts his right hand to cup the back of Alex’s neck, then his twice-injured one to gently caress his throat. His hand heats up and Alex’s breath hitches. Michael pulls away and opens his eyes to watch the last of the bruises fade from Alex’s neck.

“Thanks,” Alex whispers, eyes gazing into Michael’s.

Michael just nods, then looks down the hallway where he hears the front door opening and Maria calling out that she’d come as fast as she could. Now they’re just waiting on Liz and Kyle. He takes a steadying breath and starts walking back to the living room.

Before he can make it more than a few steps, Alex grips his hand and says, “Hey, Michael?”

Michael looks back, feeling amazingly light, despite the circumstances. “Yeah?”

Alex smiles and says, “I dreamt of you, too.”

/

“This is a terrible idea,” Liz says for the seventh time in as many minutes.

“Your objection is noted, Lizzie, but I’m doing this,” Michael says. He looks around the room at the other five people--Maria, sitting on top of the coffee table across from Isobel, fingers pressed to her lips, eyes shining with tears; Kyle, arms crossed over his chest as he paces behind the couch, eyes fixed on Isobel; Alex, standing behind Isobel’s chair, just outside the line of yellow pollen; Liz, standing next to Michael, eyebrows furrowed with concern as she glances between him and Isobel.

Then there’s Isobel, conscious but still cuffed to the chair, legs crossed primly as she grins up at him, eyebrow cocked. “You’re not gonna hit your sister, are you?” Noah taunts through Isobel.

Michael shakes his head and says, “No, I’m gonna do something way less risky.” He looks at Alex and nods. Alex pulls his gun from his holster and holds it on Isobel, making sure the sound of the safety clicking off is audible to Noah.

They roll their eyes. “You’re not gonna shoot your boyfriend’s sister, either, Manes. Despite the family legacy, I know you’re not the type to kill an innocent alien.”

Michael watches him another second before turning to Liz and raising an eyebrow. She looks up at him, mutiny in her eyes. When he continues to stare placidly down at her, she huffs and drops to the floor, muttering, “Fine, but I’m doing this under _ extreme _ protest.” She carefully parts the pollen, creating a gap large enough for Michael to step through, then gives him a look he is very familiar with: the ‘Guerin, you’re a goddamn idiot’ look. Then she gestures him forward.

“Also noted,” Michael says, holding his breath against the uncomfortable twisting of his stomach as he steps into the circle with Noah and Isobel. Liz closes the circle behind him.

Michael steps in front of Noah and squats, looking up at the evil man behind his sister’s eyes and taking a deep breath. “You need to get out of my sister,” he says calmly, though his heart is racing wildly in his chest.

Isobel’s lips twist and Noah says, “Mmm, no, I don’t think so.” He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s such a great body, after all, and since I’m now without one…” He shrugs. “Finders, keepers and all that.”

Michael sighs and stands back up. “Fine,” he says, walking around to stand behind him. “We’ll do this the hard way then.” He places his hands on Isobel’s shoulders.

Noah snorts. “Ooh, goody. I do like it rough some--”

They’re in the middle of the desert, Michael and Isobel and Noah. The sun is high in the sky above them, and Isobel and Noah stand next to each other, facing off against Michael.

“Michael!” Isobel breathes out, reaching out for him.

He takes a step toward her, but Noah is faster. He’s behind Isobel before Michael can blink, his arm across her upper chest, pulling her back into him. “No, no, no, no, no. Now, that’s cheating, Michael.” His other arm wraps around Isobel’s middle, wrapping her up in him.

Michael freezes; he’s several feet away from them, and Noah’s practically got Isobel in a chokehold. It’s not the same in here as it is in the physical world, but harming Isobel’s projection of herself would be tantamount to harming her mind. 

There’s only one person in here who has the ability to hurt Noah right now, and that’s Isobel. Michael ignores Noah’s taunts and focuses solely on his sister. They lock eyes, and he tells her with just a look how much he loves her, how he knows she’s capable of anything. She can do this.

Isobel bites her lip and sucks in a breath, giving a small nod before she goes limp in Noah’s arms, dragging him down as she falls to the ground. Once his grip on her has loosened, she throws her elbow back into his chest, winding him, then kicks her legs forward to help launch herself out of his arms. She untangles herself from his grasping hands and scrambles up, bolting for Michael.

He catches her in a bear hug, burying his face in her shoulder. “It’s not over yet. You have to get him out of you.”

Isobel pulls back; behind her, Michael sees Noah getting to his feet, his face filled with rage. Michael sucks in a breath and says, “He pushed his consciousness into you during the fight out in the desert, right before you killed his body. You’re going to have to force him back out, but he won’t have anywhere to go.”

Noah screams and starts sprinting towards them.

Michael gives Isobel a kiss on her forehead and asks, “Do you have a grip on the outside?”

Her eyes go a little distant, but she lets out a relieved breath and nods. “Yeah. I can see the others.”

Michael nods and says, “I’ll see you on the other side.” He disappears back to the living just as Noah reaches them.

Isobel gasps, bending over in the chair and gasping for breath. Michael comes back to his physical body and shifts back in front of her, kneeling in front of her, hands on her cheeks. “Is!” he yells.

“Michael,” she groans, tears dripping down her face. “He’s so strong.”

Michael licks his lips and shakes his head. “But you’re stronger.”

Isobel groans again, shaking her head. “He’s almost got me again. I can feel him clawing for control.”

“Then claw back!” Maria snaps from behind him.

Isobel lifts her head and Michael shifts to the side so she can see her.

Maria steps up to the line of pollen and looks down at Isobel. “Claw that motherfucker’s eyes out, and come back to us.”

Isobel laughs wetly, but it turns to a groan of pain again as she slams her eyes closed. “No, no, no,” she chants, straining against her cuffs. “No!”

“C’mon, Is, fight him,” Michael whispers, pressing his forehead to hers. “Get rid of him once and for all, and stay here with me.”

She shakes her head, eyes squinting open to meet his. She whispers, “If I let him take me, maybe he’ll leave you alone.”

Michael’s already shaking his head. “That’s not how this works, remember? We stick together, just like we promised the day Mom left us.” He holds out a fist, pinky extended, then reaches over to link it with one of hers. “Promise you’ll stay,” he says.

Isobel’s pinky tightens around his and she exhales shakily. “Promise,” she whispers. Her eyes slam shut and she yells loudly for a long period of time, straining against the cuffs, body writhing in the chair. Minutes later, without warning, she stops screaming and her body goes limp.

Michael leans into her, hands cupping her cheeks. He brushes the hair out of her face, thumbs rubbing away the tear tracks. “Is?” he says, voice low.

Her eyes flicker open and she inhales shakily. “Yeah,” she says, voice rasping. Her eyes close again; she looks exhausted. She swallows a few times before she opens her eyes again and slowly smiles to say, “But you’re gonna have to double check yourself. I’m pretty sure FBI boyfriend won’t let me go until he’s a hundred percent certain I’m not gonna throttle him again.”


	6. epilogue

**2018**

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

Elizabeth Marie Ortecho

And

Kyle Manuel Valenti

On Saturday, August 25, 2018 at 4:00pm 

At Saint Peter Church

RSVP to Maria DeLuca by July 28

Reception to Follow

  
  


_ Mikey, _

_ I know, you said I didn’t have to send you one, since you’re in the wedding, but 1) ofc I’m going to send you an invitation to my wedding and 2) you actually do need to RSVP because  _ <strike> _ we  _ </strike> _ okay I want to know if you’re bringing a date. _

_ So, like, RSVP and tell me if you’re bringing a certain sexy FBI agent to my wedding. _

_ Love, _

_ Liz _

/

You’ve reached Maria DeLuca. If this is regarding the Ortecho-Valenti wedding, please leave a detailed message regarding the issue, and I will get back to you within one business day. If this is regarding anything else, I must ask you kindly to fuck off until August 26.

_ Hey, so this is me officially RSVP-ing, though I don’t know why I have to do that for my own sister’s wedding? Sounds dumb, but okay. I will be there, and yes, you can sit me next to Isobel. I’m over it, she’s over it, it’s old news. Whatever. I’ll see you next weekend for the bridal shower. _

/

You’ve reached Maria DeLuca. If this is regarding the Ortecho-Valenti wedding, please leave a detailed message regarding the issue, and I will get back to you within one business day. If this is regarding anything else, I must ask you kindly to fuck off until August 26.

_ Maria, I know you’re a grown woman, but I would be remiss in my capacity as your mother if I didn’t scold you at least a little for swearing in your voicemail message. Potential clients could be calling, you know. Anyways, I wanted to let you know my flight out of Honolulu has been delayed, but I should still be in time for the shower. I’ll let you know when I know my new arrival time. Love you! _

/

You’ve reached Maria DeLuca. If this is regarding the Ortecho-Valenti wedding, please leave a detailed message regarding the issue, and I will get back to you within one business day. If this is regarding anything else, I must ask you kindly to  _ leave me alone _ until August 26.

_ That’s better, thank you. My flight will be in at 9:00. Love you! _

/

Dear Mr. Guerin,

The investigation into the death of Noah Bracken has proven his cause of death to be justifiable homicide. You and your sister were protecting yourselves from a threat to your lives. DNA evidence from the body you directed investigators to in the desert provided positive identification.

Sincerely,

Alex Manes

Special Investigator

/

You’ve reached Maria DeLuca. If this is regarding the Ortecho-Valenti wedding, please leave a detailed message regarding the issue, and I will get back to you within one business day. If this is regarding anything else, I must ask you kindly to  _ leave me alone _ until August 26.

_ This is Alex Manes, re the Ortecho-Valenti wedding. I will be attending both the ceremony and the reception. I must ask you to please inform the bride, so she stops hassling me about it in the group chat. _

_ \--Could you RSVP for me too? _

_ \--What? No, I’m not RSVPing for you. You have to RSVP for yourself. Wait, do you even have to RSVP? You’re in the wedding. _

_ \--That’s what I said! But Liz told me I have to. So can you do it for me? _

_ \--No! I’m not-- _

_ \--But you’re already leaving a message! _

_ \--So? _

_ \--So, wouldn’t it be easier to just leave both RSVPs at once? That way, Maria doesn’t have to worry about-- _

/

You’ve reached Maria DeLuca. If this is regarding the Ortecho-Valenti wedding, please leave a detailed message regarding the issue, and I will get back to you within one business day. If this is regarding anything else, I must ask you kindly to  _ leave me alone _ until August 26.

_ ...So, this is Michael. Guerin. RSVPing for the Oretcho-Valenti wedding. I will...be there. In the wedding, so I don’t know why I had to make this stupid-- _

_ \--Tell Liz we’ve both RSVP’d, please, Maria! Also, traffic was awful in Albuquerque, so it will be about another hour before we get home. Could you leave the light on for us, please? _

_ \--And tell Liz to stop being such a Bridezi-- _

/

You’ve reached Maria DeLuca. If this is regarding the Ortecho-Valenti wedding, please leave a detailed message regarding the issue, and I will get back to you within one business day. If this is regarding anything else, I must ask you kindly to  _ leave me alone _ until August 26.

_ I know you know I’m going, since I’m going with you, but I know how Liz can get so: this is my RSVP, to the wedding and the reception. Also, do we have a date for the bachelorette party yet? Because when I lived in New Orleans for those six months, I found this amazing boutique that makes custom lingerie for special occasions, and I thought it would be nice to take Liz there so she can get something to really wow Kyle with, you know? And I--well, I guess we can talk about it when I see you at home later. Love you! _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading/kudosing/commenting! It feeds my soul!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: islndgurl777


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